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C. W. W^cAuZz^ 



THE 



Gospel of Foreign Travel 



By Rev. C. W. Winchester, A. M. 




**'* 7/ wr 



10 



ROCHESTER, N. Y. : 

PRESS OF DEMOCRAT AND CHRONICLE, 

i8qi. 



[the library 

1 0r CONGRESS 
WASHINGTON 



Go tbe Officiate ano /Members 



/IDefcina tfftetbotost lEptscopal Gburcb, 

who kindly gave their pastor time for foreign 
travel, followed him in his absence with 
their prayers and cordially welcomed 
him on his return, this volume 
is most affectionately dedi- 
cated by the author. 



8ft 



Copyrighted 1891, 

By C. W. Winchester 

Medina, N. Y. 



PREFACE. 



In the summer of 1890 the author spent twelve 
weeks on the Atlantic Ocean and on the soil of 
Europe, having left home, at the urgent advice of 
physicians, parishioners and friends, to recover from 
the effects of a severe illness — the first in nineteen 
years of labor in the pastorate. 

Soon after his return, many members of his 
congregation began to clamor for a public recital of 
his experiences abroad. After due deliberation, he 
gave notice of a series of Sunday evening sermons 
on "The Gospel of Foreign Travel," stating that 
if the first proved acceptable, the others, as 
announced, would follow, to the number of eleven 
in all ; while if the first seemed to be uninteresting, 
or ill-suited to the pulpit, it would be the last. The 
preacher's plan was simply this : to use what he saw 
and experienced under foreign skies to illustrate and 
enforce the gospel. He did not purpose to give 
secular lectures, but gospel discourses — to set before 
his congregation the thoughts which came to him, as 
a student of divine truth, while he was beholding the 
wonders of the old world. 

At the close of the first discourse, delivered 
November 9, 1890, there was no doubt in the mind 
of the preacher as to his duty, and he went forward 
till the one became eleven, according to the original 
plan, and the eleven became eighteen. The last 



sermon was preached April 19, 1891. From the 
beginning of the series to the close, congregations 
equal to the capacity of the church listened to the 
discourses, and the preacher humbly trusts that much 
good was accomplished. 

- Early in the progress of the course of sermons, 
their publication in book form was suggested. That 
suggestion has come to the author again and again. 
At length he decided to make a book ; and here it 
is. The sermons are presented, with the exception 
of a few slight alterations, just as they were origi- 
nally delivered. The author hopes that, if the 
critics condescend to notice his book, they will 
not handle it as roughly as it may deserve, and 
prays that God will bless it to the spiritual good of 
all who may take the trouble to give it a perusal. 

C. W. Winchester, 
Methodist Episcopal Parsonage. 
Medina, N. ¥., Sept. j. iSpi. 



THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL, 

i. 

OVER THE SEA. 
" Let us go over to the other sideP — Luke, viii, 22. 

On the seventeenth of June, 1890, a company of 
thirty-odd persons, two-thirds of the number women 
and one-third men, gathered in the Taylor House. 
Jersey City, saying to each other : "Let us go over 
to the other side." At seven o'clock in the evening, 
led by Prof. Joseph Swain of the Indiana State Uni- 
versity, they went down to the dock of the Red Star 
Line, and went on board the steamship Westernland. 

Imagine yourself to be a member of the party. 1 
invite each one of you to take the voyage with us. 
Come with me, down into my state room. I want to 
stow away my baggage where it will be safe. This 
is the way. Down two flights of stairs we go. We 
pass along a narrow passage. We turn to the left. 
Here it is — No. 141. The door is open. An electric 
light is brightly burning. What do you think of a-uch 
a bedroom as this ? It is only eight feet long and six 
feet wide. Opposite the door are a wash-stand, a 
shelf and an oval mirror. On the floor is a good 
brussels carpet. On the right side are two good beds, 
or berths, one above the other. Mine is the upper 
one. On the left is a sofa. In the ceiling is a window, 
protected by an iron dome. Ceiling and walls are 



6 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

painted a brilliant white. I think this will do very 
well for eleven or twelve nights. Let us go back to 
the deck and look the ship over a little, as well as we 
can in the night. 

Having examined the ship, we are now sitting in 
the saloon, writing. The room contains three long 
tables, fastened down, covered with thick, rich 
spreads, about one hundred and fifty elegant chairs 
and a piano. It has electric lights and about twenty 
little round windows, eighteen inches or two feet in 
diameter. On the end of the table near the door is 
a pile of letters and telegrams. Let us see if there 
is anything for us. Yes. Here is a telegram addressed 
to us both. It is signed by a former pastor of the 
Medina Church now resident in Rochester, and reads : 
"Wishing you health, happiness and an ideal trip." 
That is very kind. Thank God for the friends he 
has given us ! 

Wednesday morning finds us on deck at half-past 
five o'clock. At six precisely the big ship begins to 
back out of the slip. A little puffing, panting, blow- 
ing tug comes and helps to get her out and turn her 
around. Thank God for the little tugs, as well as the 
big ships ! Both are needed, in church and state. 
If you cannot be a big ship, carrying immense cargoes 
and crowds of passengers across mighty oceans, be 
contented to be a little tug, doing small jobs of hard 
pulling in the harbors and close to the shore. If you 
are not willing to be a little tug, you are not fit to 
become a big ship. 

We are standing on the forward part of the upper 
deck leaning against the rail above the steerage. We 
have just passed the Goddess of Liberty and Fort 
Hamilton. The wind is bio wine a stiff breeze. We 



OVER THE SEA. 7 

are passing Staten Island, going along finely. At the 
bowsprit we fly the flag of Belgium — three perpen- 
dicular stripes, black next to the staff, then yellow 
and red. At the top of the fore-mast flies the stars 
and stripes. At the main masthead is a white flag 
with a red star. At the mizzen masthead floats a blue 
flag with white letters U. S. M. — United States Mail. 
We have just passed Fort Wadsworth on Staten 
Island. We have a pretty sight before us now. 
About a dozen sailors in blue are up on the fore-mast, 
some of them a hundred feet above the deck, shaking 
out the sails and giving wings to the ship. 

We must be near Sandy Hook. Everything is gay. 
The harbor of New York must be one of the grandest 
in the world. 

The pilot has just left us and started back to the 
city. We are over the bar. Sandy Hook is behind 
us. The mighty Atlantic is before us. The shores 
of our dear native land are rapidly receding into 
dimness and nothingness. 

Now we are out of sight of land. Our long voyage 
of three thousand four hundred and fifty-seven miles 
has begun. Where are we going ? How do we 
know that we are going anywhere? You say we are 
going to Europe, to Antwerp; that thence we are 
going to Bruges, and Brussels, and Paris, and the 
Alps, and Milan, and Rome, and Florence, and 
Venice, and Berlin, and London, and Edin- 
burgh, and Liverpool. But how do you know that 
there is any such continent as Europe ? How do you 
know that there are any such cities as those which 
you just named ? Did you ever walk the streets of 
Paris ? Did you ever climb Mount Blanc ? Did you 
ever visit the cathedral of Milan ? Did you ever 



8 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

ascend the dome of St. Peter's? Did you ever stand 
on the bank of the Thames ? You are compelled to 
answer" no." How then do you know that these 
places have any existence outside the fancy and 
fiction of fanatics and deceivers? How do you know 
that the Red Star Steam Ship Company is not im- 
posing upon you in pretending to transport you to 
Antwerp, when there is no Antwerp, in order to 
get your money ? If you can not answer these 
questions, I can answer them for you. By faith 
you know that there is such a continent as 
Europe, and that there are such cities as Antwerp 
and Rome and London. If you have not been 
there and seen those shores and fields and domes 
and towers, other men have, and you believe their 
testimony. Nearly all the knowledge we have in 
this world comes to us through the faculty of faith. 
If we were wholly dependent for knowledge upon 
our own investigation and sight, we should almost 
be ignoramuses and fools. But because we have 
faith in the intelligence and veracity of other men, 
and by faith accept the results of their observation, 
investigation and experience, we have much knowl- 
edge of worldly things, and continually grow in 
knowledge and wisdom. 

So it is in religious things. The infidel says to 
the Christian: "Where are you going?" The 
Christian replies : " I am going to Heaven." The 
infidel says : " How do you know there is any such 
place as Heaven ? Have you ever been there ? Have 
you ever walked the streets of the New Jerusalem ? 
Have you ever sat under the trees on the banks of 
the River of Life ? " " No," the Christian is com- 
pelled to answer, "I never have." "Well then, how 



OVER THE SEA. 9 

do you know but the priests, the ministers, are fooling 
you in order to get your money?" The Christian 
answers : "By faith I know that there is a hereafter; 
that the soul will live after death ; that there are such 
places as Heaven and Hell ; that there will be a 
resurrection of the body and a judgment seat. God, 
my Father, and Christ, my Saviour, have seen all 
these things, and I have their word and believe their 
testimony. I know that there is a farther shore to 
the ocean of death, that Heaven lies over on the 
other side of these waves of trial and temptation 
and tribulation, because the man Christ Jesus, my 
elder Brother, has been over there and has come 
back and brought me word, and I have faith in his 
testimony." 

My friends, I want to impress on your minds the 
fact that the life of a man on the ocean is a life of 
faith; and that the Christian life is a life of faith. 
You cannot go to Europe without faith. You can- 
not go to Heaven without faith. If you would go 
to Europe, you must have faith in the word of others 
who have crossed the sea before you ; you must have 
faith in the ship on which you sail ; you must have 
faith in the machinery ; you must have faith in the 
compass and chart ; you must have faith in the cap- 
tain and crew. If you would go to Heaven, you 
must have some degree of faith in Christian people 
and in the Christian Church ; you must have implicit 
faith in the chart — the Bible— and in Jesus Christ, the 
great Captain of your Salvation. 

While we have been talking about faith, the engines 
have been working, and the huge ship, our floating 
palace-hotel, is far out on the bosom of the briny 
deep. How do travelers spend their time on the 



10 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

ocean ? Eating^ sleeping, walking, sitting in steamer 
chairs on the deck, chatting, reading, writing, play- 
ing harmless games, watching the ever-changing, 
never- resting sea. An extract or two from the 
tourist's journal will tell how time goes on the 
ocean. a Nearly all day I have sat in my chair, in 
overcoat and sea-rug. on the starboard side of the. 
ship (the south side it now is) watching the sea and 
chatting with many persons. The sea is a never failing 
source of entertainment. To-day it is as blue as blue 
can be, dotted all over with white caps. If an artist 
were to paint the sea in a picture as deep a blue as it 
really is now, he would be considered false to nature. 
Now I am sitting at the bow, just as far forward as I 
can get, with my back against the railing. Running 
my eyes along the entire length of the deck, I can 
see the vessel's stern, four hundred and fifty-five 
feet away. The sea is very beautiful this afternoon 
the most beautiful it has been since the voyage 
began. The water near by is of the deepest blue. 
In the near and remote distance, the surface is 
flecked all over with silver. The sky is well nigh 
cloudless, save along the horizon. Before me on the 
foremast, about fifteen feet above the deck, is the 
' crow's nest,' on which is a sailor at watch. Just 
now he blew a horn which he continually carries. At 
once a crowd of people come running to the bow to 
see if they could discover a sail. We can see one 
directly east, probably twenty miles away. The sea 
is lonely. We on the ship are, for the time, as com- 
pletely separated from the rest of the world as 
though we were dead. If our ship should go down, 
no one would ever know what had become of us. 
But we are not separated from God. He is on the 



OVER THE SEA. 11 

sea as much as on the land; and we are in his 
almighty hand. How true the words of the Psalmist : 
' Whither shall I go from thy Spirit ? or whither 
shall I flee from thy presence ? If I take the wings 
of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of 
the sea ; even then shall thy hand lead me, and thy 
right hand shall hold me.' " 

Another page in the traveler's journal reads some- 
what differently : " The sun went down in a cloud 
to-night, and there are indications of a storm. A fog 
has settled down upon us, and the fog-horn sounds 
hideously, every two or three minutes, to warn any 
vessel which may be passing. I fear it will not let 
us sleep." 

I want to talk to you a little while about that fog- 
horn, and about another fog-horn. A fog-horn is a 
huge steam whistle, with a throat like the throats of 
an army of demons. Of all the hideous and ear- 
splitting sounds which I ever heard, the fog-horn's 
scream is the worst. You would think it might be 
the wailing of lost souls, undergoing torture in 
Dante's Inferno. You know what the fog-horn is 
for. When the sky is so black, or the air is so thick 
with vapor, that passing vessels cannot see each 
other's lights, the fog-horn's terrific screech reveals 
the vessel's position and prevents collision and wreck. 
The fog-horn's voice is terrific and painful ; but it 
means mercy and salvation. Who would strangle its 
cry, when a darkness which can be felt rests upon the 
deep ? The fog-horn is sounding. Down under the 
decks, in one of the state-rooms, a man is trying to 
sleep. A hundred times, during the last hour, he has 
been just falling off into sweet unconsciousness, when 
that demoniacal screech has started him up, wide 



12 the gospel of foreign tra vel. 

awake. " O, the hateful thing ! " he angrily exclaims. 
Go down and ask him if he wants the fog-horn 
stopped. He stares at you, and says : " Do you 
take me for a fool ? No ! Let it blow ! I would 
rather not sleep a wink till the end of the voyage, 
than to have the stoppage of that horn cause a col- 
lision at sea." Every person on the ship has an 
intense dislike for the fog-horn's voice. And yet if 
a vote were to be taken, everybody would hold up 
both hands to have it blow on as long as the fog 
continues. 

The whole human family is sailing over the ocean 
of time toward the shores of eternity. For six thou- 
sand years a thick fog — the fog of sin— has covered 
the sea. To prevent collision and everlasting wreck, 
our all-wise Captain, God, has been blowing his fog- 
horn, to warn every man to flee from the wrath to 
come and to lay hold on eternal life. It is not music 
in a sinner's ears ; and many men are angry at it and 
at God, and clamor to have it stopped. In Old 
Testament times, Noah and Elijah and Jeremiah, 
and many other seers and prophets, were God's fog- 
horns. Noah blew a warning blast, one hundred and 
twenty years. The world stopped its ears and would 
not be warned. The result was an awful wreck, in 
which scores and hundreds of millions of lives were 
lost. Elijah was a fog-horn of terrific power. He 
blew a blast of loud and solemn warning in the ears 
of Ahab and Jezebel and apostate Israel. Instead of 
forsaking their sins, they found fault with the fog- 
horn. Ahab said to Elijah: "Art thou he that 
troubleth Israel ?" Then they tried to silence the 
prophet's voice in death, that they might lie down in 
their sins and sleep on the verge of eternal damna- 



OVER THE SEA. 18 

tion. Jeremiah knew that the ship of state was in 
danger of colliding with a vessel named Babylon, 
commanded by King Nebuchadnezzar. So he tried 
to warn King Zedekiah and his fellows, before it was 
too late. Instead of hating their sins, they hated 
Jeremiah and cast him into prison. 

In this gospel dispensation every faithful minister 
is a fog-horn. These are some of the warning notes 
which they send out into the dark and misty atmos- 
phere: "The soul that sinneth, it shall die;" "The 
wages of sin is death;" "He that believeth and is 
baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not 
shall be damned"; "Except ye repent ye shall all 
likewise perish." Many of us do not like these 
sounds. We do not like to hear a fog-horn, when we 
go to Church. We want to have the minister tell us 
that we are all right ; that we are sailing straight into 
the harbor of Heaven, when he knows that we are in 
imminent danger of being run down by God's iron- 
clad war-ship "Vengeance," and sunk to the bottom 
of the gulf of divine wrath and indignation. If sin- 
ners in this congregation, to night, should be told 
what their peril is, in the very words which the 
Bible employs, some of them would be angry at the 
preacher, and would say : " Stop that ^fog-horn, and 
let us go to sleep." My friends, sailing to eternity 
on the ocean of time, let us be as wise as those who 
sail on the treacherous Atlantic Until the darkness 
of sin is all dispelled, let us thank God for the fog- 
horn, and heed its warning notes, however unpleas- 
ant they may be. 

We ought to be better acquainted with the vessel on 
which we are sailing. She is built wholly of steel, 
including her masts and spars, except that her decks 



14 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEE 

are wooden planks bolted down upon steel plates, 
and all the saloons and state-rooms are finished in 
wood. She is four hundred and fifty-five feet long ; 
forty-seven feet wide, in the widest part ; thirty-five 
feet deep ; has a tonnage of five thousand seven hun- 
dred and thirty-six tons, and engines of four thou- 
sand horse-power. She burns about one hundred tons 
of coal every twenty-four hours, and, on this voyage, 
carries about five hundred souls. One night one of the 
engineers took me, and others, down to see the ship's 
machinery. We went down and down, around and 
around, on iron stairways, till we were twenty-two 
feet below the surface of the sea. The engines are 
two in number, and are very large. The pistons have 
a stroke of five and one-half feet. One has a cylin- 
der fifty-four inches in diameter ; and the other 
ninety-two. The smaller takes the steam from the 
boilers, and passes it into the second engine. Thence 
it passes into the condenser, is changed back into 
water and returns to the boilers. The engineer took 
us down to the very bottom of the ship and showed 
us the shaft which turns the propelling screw. It is 
one hundred and eighty-five feet long and seventeen 
and one-half inches in diameter. It is made of solid 
steel. It runs from the engines to,, and through, the 
stern to the screw outside. ' We went into the fur- 
nace room. There we saw many smutty-faced beings, 
who looked as though they might be demons, 
stuffing the coal into twenty furnaces under the 
four boilers, and cleaning out the ashes. The 
place seemed like the bottomless pit, It was so hot 
and close that I feared I should faint. I do not 
understand how men can live there. But they do; 
and work for ten dollars a month. Down at the bot- 



OVER THE SEA. 15 

torn of the ship, at the stern, we could touch both 
sides of the vessel at the same time, with only seven- 
eighths of an inch of steel between us and death. 
What I saw impressed me with a sense of the majesty 
and power of the human mind as shown in the inven- 
tion and construction of such machinery and such a 
ship. I thought of the evolution, through the ages, 
of the art of ship-building, from the log raft, fastened 
together with ropes of twisted bark, and the rude 
digout, up to such a floating palace as that on which 
I was sailing. And yet the Westernland does not 
belong to the largest class of ocean steamers. She 
is far surpassed by the " City of New York," on 
which we made our returning voyage. The City of 
New York is indeed a floating city, with her immense 
saloon, her reading room, her library, her suites of 
apartments, her electric lights, her eleven hundred 
feet of unbroken side-walk, her weekly newspaper 
and her fifteen hundred inhabitants. If the City of 
New York were to be placed in the street, in front of 
this church, all the trees would have to be cut down 
to give her room ; her upper deck would be nearly as 
high as the highest part of this roof ; while her masts 
would overtop the tallest spire in this village. She 
has a tonnage of ten thousand tons. She has two 
propellers, driven by independent engines of twenty 
thousand horse-power. She carries six thousand tons 
of coal, every time she leaves her dock in Liverpool. 
She burns three hundred tons of coal every twenty- 
four hours. She sails twenty miles every sixty 
minutes. 

As I paced the deck of "The City of New York," 
admiring her beauty, astonished at her greatness, 
feeling her motion, as she bounded along the loud- 



16 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

resounding sea, I said to myself : Could any man 
believe that this ship, so full of design, so perfectly 
adapted to its work, came into existence by chance ? 
Can any man believe that that other ship, the 
World, came into being by chance ? Compare the 
two. The City of New York has a tonnage of ten 
thousand five hundred tons. The world has a 
tonnage of ten quadrillion tons. The City of New 
York carries fifteen hundred passengers. The world 
carries fourteen hundred million passengers. The 
City of New York sails over the waves twenty miles 
an hour. The world sails among the stars more than 
sixty thousand miles an hour. The City of New York 
has been sailing on the Atlantic about two years. 
The world has been sailing through infinite space at 
least six thousand years. The City of New York 
must have frequent repairs. The world has 'never 
gone into dry dock and has never been repaired. 
The City of New York trembles when she moves, 
and, if the sea is rough, she shakes up her passen- 
gers till they are deathly sick. The world moves 
three thousand times as fast as the swiftest ocean 
steamer, and yet her motion is so steady and smooth 
in calm and storm, that it took her passengers several 
thousand years to discover that she moved at all. 
Now, if the little steamer City of New York was 
designed and built and launched by some intelligent 
being, how much more evident it is that this great 
world was designed and created and launched into 
space by some being of infinite wisdom and power. 
If that man would be a fool who should say : " The 
ocean steamer came by chance," surely he is a 
greater fool who say : " There is no God." 

Over on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean lie 



OVER THE SEA. 17 

the continent and islands of Europe, with such 
splendid cities as Antwerp and Brussels and Paris 
and Rome and London and Edinburgh. But I ought 
to speak to you of another ocean and continent and 
city, which mortal eyes have never seen. Over on 
the other side of the ocean of time lie the continent 
of eternity and the evergreen plains and mountains 
of heaven. There stands a city whose walls are 
jasper, whose gates are pearls and whose streets are 
transparent gold. Men go to Europe for business, 
pleasure and health. They go to make money, to 
have a good time, to prolong life. We cannot all 
take a trip to Europe. To many of us that is a 
beautiful dream, which will never be realized. But 
we can all take a trip to Heaven. There we shall be 
immensely rich — " heirs of God and joint heirs with 
jesus Christ." There in God's presence, we shall 
have " fulness of joy," and, at his right hand, 
" pleasures forevermore." There we shall not only be 
rich, but shall live for ever and ever. Contrast that 
side with this. On this side are darkness, disappoint- 
ment, doubts, fears, crime, sin, death. On the other 
side are light, rest, joy, love, purity, eternal life. On 
this side the ground is strewed with withered flowers, 
and faded leaves, and broken columns, and blasted 
fruit. Everywhere we see ashes, and smouldering 
ruins, and bleaching. bones, and grinning skulls, and 
tombs, and graves. This world is one vast Golgotha. 
Death and despair are written on every earthly thing. 
On the other side are flowers which never wither, and 
leaves which never fade, and fruit which never 
blasts. That world is one vast Eden. We talk 
about the beautiful fields and parks of England, the 
palaces and pictures of France, the cathedrals and 



18 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

temples of Italy, the mountains and glaciers of 
Switzerland, the castles and sculptures of Germany. 
But these things are nothing, and less than nothing, 
compared with the beauty and glory and magnifi- 
cence of Heaven. You may never ride through 
Hyde Park in London ; but you may ride in God's 
chariot along the banks of the River of Eternal Life. 
You may never see the palace of Versailles ; but you 
may live eternally in the palace of Jehovah. You 
may never stand beneath the dome of St. Peter's ; 
but you may stand before the throne of God. You 
may never look at the dazzling, snow-clad peak of 
Mt. Blanc ; but you may " see the King in His 
beauty." You may never see a castle on the Rhine ; 
but you may own a mansion in the Celestial City. 
Every one of you may take a trip ta Heaven. Come, 
let us start to-night. Come, " let us go over to the 
other side." 

There are many steamship lines between this 
country and Europe, and every line has many 
steamers. There is the Cunard line. All its steamers 
have names ending in ia, like the Etruria, the 
Umbria and the Britannia. There is the Inman line. 
All its steamers are named from cities, like the " City 
of Paris " the " City of Chicago," the " City of New 
York." There is the White Star line. All its ships 
are named with words ending in, ic, like the "Britan- 
nic" and the "Teutonic." There is the Red Star 
line. All its ships are named with words ending in 
land, like the " Westernland " and the " Nordland." 
There are many other steamship lines which I have 
not the time to name. If you take a European 
trip, you may choose between a dozen lines and a 
hundred ships. But there is only one line by which 



OVER THE SEA. 19 

you can sail to Heaven, and only one ship. The 
name of that line is the " Gospel line," or the " Red 
Cross line ; " and the name of the ship is the 
" Church." The flag which floats at the top of her 
every mast is a red cross on a white field. If you go 
to Heaven, you must go by the way of the cross. 

When I tell you that the only ship in which you 
can sail to Heaven is the Church, I do not mean the 
Methodist Church, or the Baptist, or the Presbyterian, 
or the Episcopal, or the Roman Catholic Church. I 
mean the Church of Christ, the Holy Catholic 
Church, that great spiritual society which includes 
every soul in every land and age who loves and 
serves the Lord Jesus Christ. This ship, the Church, 
sometimes called the Old Ship Zion, is the largest 
vessel ever built. She is large enough to carry every 
human being at once, and give every one a first-class 
state-room. She has no steerage passengers. She is 
the strongest ship ever built. She is built of steel, or 
something stronger and tougher than the best steel 
ever cast or forged. In the largest ship-yard in the 
world, where five thousand men find employment, in 
Glasgow, I saw eight huge steel monsters on the 
stocks, each five hundred feet long. The sound of 
the hammers on their metal ribs was perfectly deafen- 
ing. The old ship Zion was built in a larger ship- 
yard than Glasgow, ever saw, and her rivets were 
driven home by patriarchs, prophets, apostles, mar- 
tyrs, and angels, under the supervision of the 
Supreme Architect of the Universe. She is the 
safest ship that ever sailed. She is so strong that no 
storm can ever wreck her, no collision can shake her, 
no ice- berg can crush her. And then her captain is 
Jesus Christ — " The Wonderful, the Counselor, the 



20 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of 
Peace." If you embark on this vessel, and do not 
leave her, you are absolutely sure to reach the haven 
of eternal rest and joy. Best of all, this salvation is 
free. My ticket to Antwerp cost me sixty-odd 
dollars; and from Liverpool to New York I paid 
seventy-five. But you can have a free ticket to 
Heaven by the Red Cross line. Jesus, by his blood 
shed on Calvary, has paid the passage of every 
human soul from this world to that kingdom which is 
over on the other side. All you have to do is to 
come on board, just as you are. Come, will you not 
ship for glory this very night ? 

Friday morning, June 27th, I came on deck at 
seven o'clock. At about nine o'clock we caught 
sight of the Cilly Islands. The first thing we saw 
was a tall light-house rising above the waves. At 
about ten we sighted Land's End, England, and, 
soon after, Lizard Point. There our ship was sighted 
from the shore, and the news of our arrival was 
rlashed under the sea to New York. All day we 
sailed in the English Channel. For hours we were 
close to the English coast. We could see the green 
fields of grass and grain, and the grazing cattle and 
numerous farm houses. After nine days without any 
glimpse of land, how our hungry eyes feasted on 
that sight. Saturday morning the white cliffs of 
Dover were in sight. We were in the narrow strait 
between England and France, and could see Dover, 
with its old castle on a hill 220 feet above the water. 

At three o'clock we were in the German Ocean, at 
the mouth of the River Scheldt. There we lay, wait- 
ing for the tide, till eight o'clock Sunday morning. 
At eleven our good ship reached her dock, at Ant- 
werp, and our long voyage was joyously over. 



OVER THE SEA 21 

So, I thought, it will be by and by with the faithful 
Christian. The last storm will be over, the last trial 
will be past, the last temptation will be overcome, the 
last cross will be laid down. Land will be in sight. 
The domes and spires of the eternal city will rise 
before him. It will be Sabbath morning — the Sab- 
bath of eternal rest. Amid a throng of welcoming 
saints and angels and old familiar friends, he will 
step upon the golden wharf, and he forever at home. 



THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 



II. 

ANTWERP, BRUGES, AND BRUSSELS. 

"Go * * * * and see the land, what it is; and the 
people that dwelleth therein * * * * and what cities 
they be that they dwell in * * * * Numbers xiii, 17 

—19. 

These words are a part of Moses' instructions to 
the committee of twelve, whom he sent to spy out the 
land of Canaan. We, on the Red Star Steamer West- 
ernland, went across the ocean to see the land, what it 
is and the people who dwell therein, and what cities 
they be that they dwell in. The first land on which 
we stood was the little kingdom of Belgium, and in 
that kingdom we saw three cities, Antwerp, Bruges 
and Brussels. 

Antwerp is a city of about two hundred thousand 
inhabitants, situated on the right, or eastern, bank of 
the River Scheldt, fifty miles from its mouth. It has 
a find harbor, which will admit the largest vessels, and 
is the greatest sea-port on the continent of Europe. 
It registers six thousand vessels every year. It carries 
on an enormous trade with Great Britain and Ger- 
many, and with the inland towns and cities. It is 
strongly fortified, and is the principal arsenal of Bel- 
gium. Antwerp was founded twelve hundred years 
ago, and has passed through many vicissitudes. Four 
times the dogs of war have howled before its gates. 
Four times it has suffered the horrors of siege and 



ANTWERP, BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 23 

pillage. Four different nations, in modern times, 
have swayed the scepter over its inhabitants— Spain, 
France, Holland and Belgium. Its people are mostly 
of Flemish stock, resembling the Dutch. They speak 
two languages — Dutch and French. In Dutch they 
call their town Antwerpen ; in French Anvers. 

Many magnificent public buildings, numerous 
splendid churches, stately and antique houses and a 
profusion of ornamental trees render Antwerp a very 
interesting and picturesque city. It is the cleanest 
city I ever saw. I did not see a street which did not 
seem to be almost perfectly free from dirt of every 
kind. I hardly saw a spot where a person could not 
walk without shoes and scarcely soil his stockings, 
either on the side-walk or in the middle of the carri- 
age drive. But while the streets are clean, they have 
the fault of being very narrow and crooked. They 
wind and twist around in every direction, and cross 
each other without any kind of order. They are as 
much worse than the streets of old Boston as you can 
think. The houses are very queer. Their gables are 
turned toward the Street, and their roofs are covered 
with the oddest-looking tiles. The shape of the house 
fronts is much like that of a big box with a lot of little 
boxes piled on top so as to form two flights of steps, 
ascending from each side toward the middle. I sup- 
pose we saw hundreds of such houses which have 
been occupied for five and six hundred years, and 
even longer. 

But I am getting ahead of my story. We landed at 
Antwerp, on the magnificent stone quay which the 
Great Napoleon built three-quarters of a century ago 
at a cost of $2,600,000. After attending to our bag- 
gage, we formed a procession, thirty strong, and 



24 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

marched to the Hotel du Commerce, near the Bourse. 
My immediate traveling companion and myself were 
assigned to the same room — a very quaint, old, inter- 
esting place. The bed was very high and had a 
canopy over it. The only thing to give light, in the 
absence of the sun, was a tallow candle, in a brass 
stick with a handle like that of a frying pan. The 
furniture was all old-fashioned, as if it had been made 
five hundred years ago. But every thing was clean 
and good, and we liked the place all the more for 
being old and odd. 

After dinner, at about two o'clock Antwerp time 
(which would be eight forty-five, New York time) I 
went to the Bourse, a grand massive building, where 
the exchange of the city is carried on, and, from an 
office in one of the upper stories, sent a cable- 
gram to my Medina home. Including the address, 
it contained four words, and cost me seven francs. 
The message was written at two o'clock, and was 
delivered at the parsonage in Medina, three thousand 
eight hundred miles distant, at about half-past one. 
In other words, my little message, of one word, out- 
stripped the sun in his stately march, and, according 
to two time-pieces both correct, was in the hands of 
my wife before it left my fingers. That fact, it 
seems to me, is a beautiful comment on one of the 
promises which God has written for us in his book. 
In the sixty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, and the twenty- 
fourth verse, we read: " It shall come to pass, that 
before they call, I will answer; and while they are 
yet speaking, I will hear." This is one of a thousand 
places in which the Almighty has promised to hear 
and answer prayer. Only here he promises to 
receive and answer our petitions before we send 



ANTWERP, BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 21 

them. Do you believe in prayer ? Do you believe 
that God will hear you, if you pray out of an honest 
and sincere heart ? If you do not, I am sorry for 
you; I think you must be one of the most unhappy 
persons in the world. Some people say that God 
cannot answer prayer; that prayer is impossible. 
Fifty years ago men would have said that it was 
impossible to send messages along a wire by means of 
electricity; and a man who should have proposed to 
do what I did do -send a dispatch under the ocean 
from Antwerp to New York — would have been 
hurried away to the nearest insane asylum. But 
whatever men might have said then, electric teleg- 
raphy is a fact; and, whatever infidels may say now, 
prayer is a fact. I trust you will not accuse me of 
egotism and pride, when I say that I have tried and 
proved both. If puny, ignorant, finite man has been 
able to invent an arrangement by which a husband, 
on one side of the Atlantic, can send a message to 
his wife, on the other side of the Atlantic, in less than 
no time; why cannot the almighty, infinite God con- 
trive an arrangement by which a needy child, on 
earth, may send a message to his Heavenly Father, 
and get a speedy reply ? I am very glad that the 
electric telegraph has been invented and that ocean 
cables have been laid, because they benefit commerce 
and promote the peace of nations; and also because 
they help to make us understand how God can hear 
and answer prayer. "Before they call I will answer; 
and while they are yet speaking, I will hear." That 
divine promise was illustrated in the receipt, at 
Medina, at half-past one, of a cablegram which I 
sent from Antwerp, at two. It has also been fulfilled, 
over and over again, in the experience of Christians, 



26 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL, 

in all ages and lands. It cost me one dollar and 
forty cents for only one word. I want you to try 
God's great prayer cable, which he has stretched 
from his throne to every man's door. It will cost 
you nothing. You can send as many words as you 
please. You can use it all day and all night, free of 
charge. Its frequent use will make you rich in joy 
and love and all spiritual good. 

The grandest building in Antwerp is the cathedral. 
It is a superb old building, the erection of which was 
commenced in 1352, and finished in 1616. So you 
see its newest portion is two hundred and seventy- 
five years old, while its foundations were laid more than 
five hundred years ago. It is a magnificent structure 
of the Gothic style of architecture. It is not only 
grand, but beautiful. Externally the chief attraction 
is the Gothic tower, four hundred and two feet high, 
containing a chime of ninety-nine bells, the largest of 
which weighs eight tons, while the smallest is only 
fifteen inches in circumference. The upper part of 
the tower, as well as the lower, is wholly of stone ; 
and yet it is so richly and delicately carved that 
Charles V. used to say that it ought to be preserved 
in a glass case, and Napoleon is said to have com- 
pared it to a piece of Mechlin lace It is the most 
beautiful church tower I ever saw. I ascended it to 
the altitude of three hundred feet — which is as high 
as anyone can go — by a spiral stair-case of 515 stone 
steps. The view from that elevation is very fine, 
taking in the whole city, wide stretches of beautiful 
fields and miles and miles of winding river. The ground 
plan of the cathedral is a cross, three hundred and 
eighty-five feet long and two hundred and twenty-two 
feet wide in the widest part. It covers fourteen times as 



ANTWERP, BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 27 

much space as this church in which we are assembled. 
Its arched ceiling, one hundred and fifty feet high in 
the highest place, and five times as high as the high- 
est portion of this ceiling, is supported by one 
hundred and twenty-five columns. The building does 
not contain wood enough to make a tooth-pick, 
except the doors. All is stone. The chief attractions 
of the interior of the Antwerp Cathedral are the famous 
paintings by Peter Paul Rubens, the " Elevation 
of the Cross," and the "Descent from the Cross." 
The former is two hundred and eighty years old ; and 
the latter, two hundred and seventy- eight. At the 
close of a short children's service, Sunday afternoon, 
the pictures were uncovered and we sat down to 
study them. 

r J ne " Elevation of the Cross " is on the left, or 
north side of the altar ; the other picture is on the 
right side. The painting at which we are looking 
now represents the living Christ, spiked to a rough 
wooden cross, which nine or ten muscular executioners 
are tugging to raise. The sufferer's hands and feet 
are streaming with blood, and the body droops as it 
hangs with all its weight upon the lacerating nails. 
The agony on the Saviour's face is more than human. 
As the eyes are turned upward, there is more than 
mortal majesty in the look. We feel that it is the 
dying God at whom we are gazing. The scene is so 
real, that our imagination carries us back through the 
centuries, and we seem to be standing on Calvary, 
that April morning, with the crucifixion actually tak- 
ing place before our eyes. It is so cruel, so dreadful, 
that we cannot endure the sight. As we turn away, 
with tears of pity in our eyes, we repeat to ourselves 
the old hymn : 



28 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

" Alas ! and did my Saviour bleed ? 

And did my Sovereign die ? 
Would he devote that sacred head 

For such a worm as I ? 

My friend, whoever you may be, can you look at 
that picture, can you see Jesus lifted up on the cross, 
without hating your sins, which drove those nails, 
and resolving that henceforth you will live for him 
who died for you ? 

The " Descent from the Cross " is considered 
Rubens' finest work, and is one of the great pictures 
of the world. We sat before it, that Sunday after- 
noon, I cannot tell how long — till we were wholly 
lost in the scene before us. I wish I could make you 
see the picture. Shall I try ? There it is. See ! the 
figures are as large as life. The coloring is rich and 
vivid — just like reality. It is the evening of the 
crucifixion day. Armed with authority from Pilate, 
the disciples have come to take down the lifeless 
body of their beloved Master. The nails have been 
extracted. The body is half-way down. It looks 
exactly like a corpse. Death absolute, hopeless, is 
written in the faded majesty of that peaceful, weary 
face. The eyes are closed. The head hangs 
down on the right shoulder. Every limb and muscle 
is relaxed. Two rude ladders stand leaning against 
the cross. In the very front of the scene John is 
standing, with one foot on the ladder and the other 
on the ground, supporting almost the entire weight 
of the dead Saviour in his strong, loving arms. O, 
what love and sorrow are written on his face ! Peter 
stands at the top of the ladder leaning over the right 
arm of the cross. With his left hand he steadies 
himself ; with his right he grasps the left arm of the 
dead ; with his teeth he holds one edge of a large 



ANTWERP, BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 29 

linen cloth in which the corpse is to be wrapped. 
Such earnestness of effort is just what we should 
expect from Peter. Half-way down the ladder is 
Nicodemus, trying to help John, who seems so strong 
as to need no help. On the other side are two men 
on a ladder. One leans far over the arm of the cross 
from behind, and grasps one corner of the linen sheet. 
The other, whom, by his dress, I recognize as Joseph 
of Arimathaea, has a hand under the Saviour's right 
shoulder. On the ground, in front, on her knees, I 
see Mary Magdalene, holding, as though she 
would kiss it, one of the Saviour's pierced feet. 
Behind her is the other Mary. Standing, leaning 
forward with outstretched arms, as though she would 
clasp her son to her bosom, with a look of unutterable 
sorrow in her face, is the Virgin Mother. In her, this 
moment, is fulfilled the prophecy of the aged Simeon: 
"Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul 
also." 

As you look at the dead Christ descending from 
the cross, I want to repeat in your ears what you 
have heard a hundred times. He died for you. God 
so loved you that he gave his only begotten Son to 
save you from your sins by his death. The 
All-wise saw that there was no way by which you 
could possibly be saved without the agony and blood 
and death of the incarnate God. An infinite sacrifice 
has been made in your behalf. If you will not accept 
a salvation which infinite Love has purchased at so 
great a price, you deserve to suffer the pains of 
perdition for ever and ever. 

Scores of thousands visit Antwerp and Antwerp 
Cathedral, every year, on purpose to see that picture. 
I believe that eternity will reveal that scores of 



30 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

thousands have been brought to Christ by looking at 
the " Descent from the Cross." With what emotions 
we left the house of God that afternoon. We carried 
away impressions which will abide with us through 
time and eternity. It would pay you to cross the 
Atlantic just to spend one hour in Antwerp Cathedral, 
looking at Rubens' immortal painting. 

At six o'clock, that same Sabbath afternoon, we 
went to St. Paul's Church to attend a special service 
held in honor of that great apostle on his feast day. 
We heard the grandest sacred music which I ever 
heard. I have no time to describe it, and I could 
not, if I should spend an hour in the attempt. 

On the way back to our hotel, we passed the City 
Hall. In front of the building stands a group of 
statuary representing a mythical hero, named Salvius 
Brabo, killing a giant. The giant, as the story goes, 
used to hold possession of the River Scheldt, at its 
mouth, and compel all sailors entering to pay him a 
heavy toll, or have the right hand cut off and cast 
into the river. Salvius killed the giant and cut off 
his hand. In the statue, he is in the act of throwing 
the giant's hand into the river. From this act the 
city took its name ; ant meaning hand, and werpen to 
throw — Antwerpen, Antwerp, to throw the hand. 

Looking at the prostrate bronze giant, I thought 
of another giant, who wrings an enormous toll from 
this Republic— two thousand million dollars every' 
year — and cuts off the right hand of self-support and 
beneficent industry from hundreds of thousands of 
American citizens. How long will the children of 
Pilgrim Fathers and Revolutionary sires submit to 
such ruthless tyranny ? When will God, in answer 
to the prayers of his people, send us a champion like 



ANTWERP, BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 31 

Salvius Brabo, who shall cut off the giant's hand and 
head, and cast them, and him, into the sea of oblivion ? 
We left Antwerp, at half-past eight Monday morn- 
ing. 

A ride by rail of seventy-two miles, directly 
west, brought us to Bruges, which is a strange old 
town of fifty thousand inhabitants one-fourth of 
whom are paupers. Bruges was once a very great 
commercial center ; but it is now in the decline. It 
is only seven and a half miles from the North Sea, 
with which it is connected by two canals. It derives 
its name, which means bridges, from the numerous 
bridges which span these commercial water-ways. We 
walked from the depot to the " Hotel Pannier d'Or," 
so named from a gilded basket on the top of a gabled 
point like those of the old houses at Antwerp. 

We first visited the "Belfry," made famous by one 
of the poems of Longfellow. It is three hundred 
and fifty-two feet high. We went up three hundred 
and sixty-two winding stone steps to the chime of 
bells. They are forty-eight in number, and range 
from a huge old monster down to a little baby about 
as large as a quart pail. Four times an hour the 
chimes ring without human hands, playing ninety-six 
different tunes every day. The chimes are rung by 
means of a huge brass cylinder like the barrel of a 
hand organ. The tune is written on the cylinder by 
driving pegs into its surface, which pegs play against 
levers as the cylinder revolves by clock-work. The 
pegs are moved, and the tunes changed, once a year. 
The cylinder weighs 19,966 pounds. This odd, old 
belfry was begun six hundred years ago and finished 
five hundred years ago. Through all the genera- 
tions, since its erection, the people of Bruges have 



32 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 

joyously listened to the melody of its bells, never 
wearied by the sounds because of the rich variety of 
the tunes. 

It seems to me that that old belfry is a type of an 
older belfry erected by divine power, eighteen cen- 
turies ago, on Mount Calvary. If the shape of the 
belfry of Burges is odd, the shape of God's belfry is 
odder still, for it is like a huge cross uplifted in sight 
of the nations. In God's belfry, which, in spite of 
wicked men and devils, will stand forever, is a won- 
derful chime of bells. They are gospel bells. They 
ring out the good news of salvation to all mankind. 
They play such an endless variety of tunes, composed 
by celestial artists, that the listener's ear is never 
wearied, and he never complains of monotony. The 
more the human heart receives of the gospel the 
more it longs to have. 

" Salvation ! O the joyful sound ! 

What pleasure to our ears ! 
A soverign balm for every wound, 

A cordial for our fears." 

Listen and you will hear the melody of those 
celestial chimes even now. Let me repeat what the 
bells are saying : " Come unto me, all ye that 
labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 
Take my yoke upon you and learn of me and ye 
shall find rest unto your souls." Now I hear a 
louder, heavier peal : " Ho every one that thirsteth, 
come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money ; 
come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk 
without money and without price." Now it grows 
soft and sweet. "The Spirit and the bride say, come. 
And let him that heareth say, come. And let him 
that is athirst, come. And whosoever will, let him 



ANTWERP, BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 33 

take the water of life freely." " Come ! come ! come ! 
Freely ! freely ! freely ! " 

You may never hear the bells of Bruges. But 
you can hear, you do hear, the gospel bells. If 
you will listen, they will charm your soul and draw 
you away from the path of sin into the fellowship of 
saints and into the joys of Heaven. 

The other points of interest which we visited in 
Burges, are the Cathedral, the Church of Notre 
Dame, where we saw an immense number of fine 
paintings and statuary, and the Palace of Justice. In 
the last named we saw a room which contains the 
most wonderful wood carving, probably, in the 
world, cut by a political prisoner, who labored at it 
seventeen years and thus purchased his liberty. It 
is one of the walls of the court-room, above the fire- 
place, and represents Charles V. in the centre, with 
his paternal ancestors Mary and Maximilian, on the 
left, and his maternal ancestors, Ferdinand and 
Isabella, on the right. All the figures stand out as 
large, and as natural, as life, in solid English oak. 

As I looked at that wonderful creation of human 
genius, and thought of the prisoner artist, I said to 
myself : I was a prisoner once, all mankind were 
prispners ; but Christ has given us freedom without 
any desert or working on our part. We are free 
from sin and condemnation, if we cease from our 
works and trust in the finished, perfect work of 
Christ. 

We left Bruges at six in the afternoon, and, after a 
journey by rail of sixty-four miles, in a south- 
easterly direction, reached Brussels, the beautiful 
capital of Belgium. It has a population of nearly 
half a million. It is called " Little Paris." It is 



34 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

remarkable for the number and richness of its 
antique buildings, and ranks among the finest cities 
in Europe. It is also noted for its manufacture of 
the finest lace in the world. Among its chief edifices 
are the Hotel de Ville, or City Hall, the Cathedral, 
the Royal Palace, the Palace of Fine Arts, the Palace 
of Justice and the Bourse. 

Of all these buildings I saw the exterior ; of some 
the interior. The Hotel de Ville interested me most, 
because of its surpassing beauty and also because, 
directly in its front, I saw the spot where the 
Christian patriots, Counts Egmont and Hoorn, were 
beheaded, in the year 1522, by the orders of the cruel 
Duke of Alva. Shall I tell you all about it ? No. 
You may read it for yourself in " Motley's Dutch 
Republic." If our young people would read such 
books more, and trashy books less, they would have 
wiser heads and purer hearts. 

But my chief aim in going to Brussels was to visit 
the battle-field of Waterloo. In company with two 
other members of our party, I left the city at ten 
o'clock, Tuesday morning. In an English coach, with 
an English driver, we rolled out of the metropolis, 
toward the south, on our ride of twelve miles. We 
soon found ourselves driving along the skirts of a 
beautiful park, which, ere long, became the forest of 
Soignes and was with us all the way to the field of 
Waterloo. It was into this forest that Napoleon 
intended to drive Wellington's army, and scatter it 
among the trees. But the God of battles willed 
otherwise. A ride of an hour and a half, over a stone 
pavement, brought us to the village of Waterloo. 
Two miles farther on, we came to the battle-field. 
We obtained a good dinner at a hotel near the spot 



ANTWERP, BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 35 

where Napoleon's "Old Guard" was annihilated, 
after which our coachman drove us about three- 
quarters of a mile further south and left us at 
Hougomont. Hougomont is the most interesting 
spot at Waterloo, especially to a student of Victor 
Hugo. It was, and is, a chateau, or a collection of 
farm buildings with garden and orchard, surrounded 
with a strong wall of masonry. It is just as it was 
seventy-five years ago, except as the storm of battle 
and the hand of time have disfigured it. June 18, 
1815, Hougomont was held by the right wing of 
Wellington's army. About three-quarters of a mile 
away, at La Belle Alliance, was the center of the 
hosts of the great Emperor. It was his purpose to 
capture Hougomont and then double up Welling- 
ton's right upon his centre, and overwhelm his whole 
army. At eleven in the morning he launched a 
heavy force upon the chateau. But the English 
were too much for the French. All day long, with 
short. lulls, the hurricane of war raged around this 
quiet rural retreat. Once the French succeeded in 
getting into the orchard, but they could not hold it. 
At the close of the day fifteen hundred corpses lay 
within the walls of Hougomont. We looked into 
the old well, into which many bodies — some still 
alive, it is said — were thrown after the battle. We 
were invited into the farm-house, and were shown 
bullet-holes in the thick plank door. I purchased 
some relics of an old woman living there. 

We walked across the fields to the Lion Mound. 
As on that bloody day seventy- five years ago, the 
ground was covered with growing wheat. I think I 
never before saw so luxuriant a growth of grain. It 
is said that Waterloo has produced more and better 



36 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

wheat since fifty thousand men watered its soil with 
their blood. It was hard to make ourselves believe 
that that peaceful plain had ever been a battlefield. 
Slowly we made our way along the path, plucking 
roses, poppies and bending heads of wheat. At 
length we were near the spot where the battle ended 
at eight o'clock on that pivotal day. There a huge 
mound has been built, two hundred feet in height 
and, perhaps, a quarter of a mile in circumference. 
Under it are buried tens of thousands of dead of 
both armies. On its summit stands a colossal bronze 
lion, weighing twenty-eight tons. We went up to the 
lion's feet and surveyed the historic field. Facing 
south, we see directly in our front, about a mile 
away, Napoleon's center at La Belle Alliance. A 
mile, or more, at the west of that point an old tree 
marks the French left. A mile east of Alliance, at 
Frechemont, is the French right. Just behind us, on 
Mt. St. Jean, is Wellington's center. Hougomont 
is his right. A mile to our left is Wellington's left 
at Papelot. A little in front of Wellington's line 
half way between St. Jean and Papelot, is La Haye 
Sainte, a cluster of farm buildings similar to Hougo- 
mont, where a bloody drama, like Hougomont's, was 
played on that summer day. Over across those fields 
to the east, and out of those woods, came Biiicher, 
bringing succor to the almost broken duke. Behind 
us, from east to west, in front of Mt. St. Jean, runs 
the sunken road, now level with the plain, scraped to 
build this mound, into which Napoleon's cavalry 
plunged, in ignorance of the topography of the 
country — the, front ranks forming a bridge over 
which those behind rode against the English squares. 
Thus we fought over the battle, in imagination, 
that beautiful summer afternoon. 



ANTWERP, BRUGES AND BRUSSELS. 37 

We stand to-day on a battle-field greater than 
Waterloo. This whole world is a battle-field. Two 
immense armies, compared with which the hosts of 
Napoleon and Wellington were mere corporal's 
guards, are here contending fiercely for the mastery. 
Waterloo lasted from eleven in the morning till eight 
at night. This battle has been raging six thousand 
years. On one side are darkness, error, barbarism, 
superstition, ignorance, infidelity, intemperance, 
impurity, vice, sin, hell, Satan. On the other side 
are light, truth, civilization, enlightenment, knowl- 
edge, faith, temperance, chastity, virtue, holiness, 
heaven, God. The right of God's army holds Hou- 
gomont. That is the family. Satan has been trying 
for ages to annihilate truth and righteousness by 
capturing and destroying the family. That is one 
of the things which he is trying hard to accomplish 
now. The left of God's army is at La Haye Sainte. 
That means the Church. There some of the fiercest 
fighting has been going on, all through the ages. 
Satan knows that if he can capture and corrupt the 
Christian Church, the victory will be his all along the 
line. The center of the army of truth, virtue, civili- 
zation and righteousness rests at Mt. St. Jean. 
That means Calvary, the doctrine of the incarnation 
and vicarious atonement of Jesus Christ. If Satan 
can only destroy that great, central, pivotal truth, he 
knows that he will have the whole world in his 
power. So he hurls his heaviest battalions against 
Calvary and the cross of Christ, as Napoleon hurled 
his " Old Guard " against Mt. St. Jean. But the 
victory will surely be on the side of truth and right. 
As Napoleon could not pound to pieces the English 
squares, so Satan cannot crush the bristling, thundering 



38 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

flaming squares of God's eternal righteousness. I 
am here to tell you that the truth will conquer ; sin 
will have its Waterloo. The time is near when error 
and infidelity and intemperance and sin of every 
kind will be trampled down and annihilated under 
the steel-shod cavalry of the wrath of Almighty 
God. 

Bliicher saved the day at Waterloo. Truth has 
her Bliicher. He is coming yonder, in the east. I 
see the dust of his tramping hosts, rising above the 
tops of the trees. He will soon be in sight. His 
portrait is painted in the Book of Revelation. You 
will know him when he appears. He rides a white 
horse. " His eyes are as a flame of fire, and on his 
head are many crowns ; and he has a name written 
that no man knoweth but he himself. And he is 
clothed with a vesture dipped in blood ; and his 
name is called the " Word of God." Christ is that 
great Captain's name. On which side are you in this 
great conflict ? You are not, you cannot be, neutral. 
You are on truth's side, or error's side — God's side, 
or Satan's side. I exhort you to get on God's side, 
that, when the battle ends, as soon it will, you may 
receive a crown of eternal life and reign with God 
for ever and ever. 



PARIS. 39 



III. 
PARIS. 

" We were in that city abiding certain days." — Acts, xvi. 12. 

In this text " that city " really means Philippi, a 
Roman city in ancient Macedonia. But, using these 
words of inspiration merely as a motto for the present 
discourse, I venture to call " that city " the capital of 
France, and to read the text : " We were in Paris 
abiding certain days." If you ask how long we were 
abiding in Paris, I answer, four days and a half. We 
arrived there Wednesday, July 2, at five o'clock in 
the afternoon, after-a railway journey of two hundred 
and twenty miles from Brussels, and left Monday 
morning, at eight o'clock. Four days and a half 
were too short a time to see Paris, and three-quarters 
of an hour are too short a time to describe Paris. 
But I will do the best I can. 

Paris is the grandest and gayest and most beautiful 
city on the globe ; with one exception, it is also the 
largest. It 13 situated in the northern part of the 
Republic of France, on both banks of the River Seine. 
The length of the river, as it winds about through the 
city, within the corporate limits, is seven miles, and 
it contains two islands, named the Island of the City 
and the Island of St. Louis. On the former of these, 
which is the larger of the two, the city was founded 
more than eighteen hundred years ago, and named 
Lutitia. From a little island village, inhabited by 



40 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

semi-savages, it has grown until now it covers thirty 
square miles of territory and has a population of 
nearly two and one-half million souls. Running 
entirely around the whole city, a distance of twenty- 
one miles, is a strong military wall of earth and 
masonry. Beyond the wall is a ditch, forty-eight 
feet wide, filled with water. Beyond the ditch are 
sixteen forts so placed as to command every approach 
to the city. Wall, ditch and forts together cost 
twenty-eight million dollars. 

Paris contains many wonders. One of these is its 
beautiful, serpentine river. For miles and miles it is 
bordered and held in place by double walls of the 
most solid masonry, with a broad walk between the 
upper and lower walls, and is spanned by twenty- 
three bridges of the most substantial and graceful 
material and form. The river also affords a most 
convenient and delightful means of communication 
between the different parts of the city, by fairy-like 
boats, which are flying back and forth all' the time, 
driven by steam. 

Another of the wonders of Paris is its broad and 
magnificent avenues and streets, paved in the 
most scientific and thorough manner, cleaned almost 
as carefully as a parlor floor, and lined with large 
and stately buildings. As its third wonder I would 
name its public buildings and religious and memorial 
edifices — palaces, art-galleries, temples of music, halls 
of industry, marts of commerce, courts of justice, 
cathedrals, mausoleums, columns, towers, monuments 
and triumphal arches. In this respect Paris stands 
without a rival among the cities of the world. But 
its greatest wonder is the life which flows through its 
streets, and rolls around its palaces and dashes over 



PARIS. 41 

its parks and gardens. What vivacity ! what rest- 
lessness ! what mirth ! what gayety ! what ecstasy 
of glee ! The city on the Seine seems to enjoy one 
long festival, stretching through days and weeks and 
months and years and generations. And yet all is not 
joy. Paris is the gayest city in the world ; but it 
records more suicides than any other. Above all 
others Paris is the city of pleasure ; but its pleasure 
most often turns to pain, and its dance of dissipation 
most frequently becomes the dance of death. Of all 
cities Paris is most devoted to amusements ; but it is 
likewise the city in which there are the most sad and 
mournful scenes. Paris is Europe's greatest " center 
of civilization ;" but it is also the greatest focus of 
revolutions, plots and conspiracies. 

Paris is indeed the most beautiful city in the world ; 
but truth compels me to add. it is the most wicked 
city in the world. On the surface all is fair and 
clean and solid and admirable. Just below there is 
very much which is bad and vile and rotten and 
loathsome. The one thing which is needed to make 
Paris a heaven on earth is the pure religion of Jesus 
Christ, as taught in our Holy Bible, in the hearts and 
lives of all her people. 

At half- past eight o'clock, Thursday morning, we left 
our hotel, on the Rue de Saint Roch, on the north side 
of the Seine, and walked down to the Rue de Rivoli, 
which runs parallel to the River at a distance of about 
one-quarter of a mile. The Rue de Rivoli is one of 
the handsomest streets in Paris. It is one mile and 
three-quarters long. Between it and the river lie the 
Garden of the Tuileries and the Palace of the Louvre. 
The latter place was our objective point. 

The Louvre was built for a royal palace. It is now 



42 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

one of the largest and finest art galleries in the world. 
It is several stories high. Its architecture is grand 
and imposing. It contains one hundred and fifty 
magnificent halls. To merely walk through its rooms 
one must travel more than a mile and a half. It 
covers twenty acres of ground. It is crowded with 
the rarest and richest treasures of the most gifted 
painters and sculptors. The contents of its smallest 
and poorest room would more than buy all the art 
on the American continent. 

We will enter. But first I will show you some- 
thing on the outside. Do you see that beautiful 
arched window, overlooking the street, in the first 
story? They call that the window of Charles IX. 
The stones in that arch could tell you a tragic story, 
if they had a tongue. Three hundred years ago, and 
more, King Charles IX. lived in this palace. He 
had many thousand subjects called Huguenots. They 
were the most intelligent, virtuous and loyal people 
in all his realm. But he feared and hated them 
because they differed from him and their fellow 
countrymen in religion. Instigated by a woman, 
his mother, Catharine de Medicis, he planned their 
massacre. Their leaders and principal men were 
invited to Paris, and to this palace, to witness the 
marriage of the king's sister. A solemn pledge was 
given, and confirmed with an oath, that not a hair of 
their heads should be touched. They came. All 
was mirth and seeming friendship at the palace. At 
midnight the bell of the Church of St. Germain tolled 
in the festival of St. Bartholomew. That was the 
preconcerted signal for the massacre to begin. The 
assembled guards issued out of the court of this royal 
abode, and spread through the city, murdering every 



PARIS. 43 

Huguenot they could find. Till morning, and all the 
day long, the fiendish butchery continued, until the 
gutters of Paris actually flowed with blood, and the 
pavements were piled with corpses. From the capital 
the massacre spread through the kingdom. When no 
more Huguenots could be found the bloody carnival 
ceased ; but not till one hundred thousand of France's 
noblest sons and daughters had been slain. 

Now what I have been coming to is this : In that 
very window King Charles, who had planned the 
massacre, sat, during a portion of St. Bartholomew's 
day, with his shot-gun in his hands, shooting Hugue- 
nots as they ran frightened through the street, try- 
ing to escape from their relentless persecutors. 
Why do I speak of such terrible crimes, committed 
far back in those barbarous .generations ? Because I 
want to ask you a question. If there is a hereafter — 
and no one in this house doubts that there is — where 
is the soul of that infamous monarch, who made a 
target of innocent men and women from that 
window ? Is he in heaven ? Could the angels get 
along with him there ? Would you want to go to 
heaven, if such monsters of crime are made welcome 
in its palaces ? Does not every principle of justice 
demand that they shall be punished for the deeds 
done in the body? If Charles IX, dying impenitent, 
has gone to heaven, is not God an accomplice with 
him in the murder of the Huguenots ? I do not 
believe that any man could stand in front of the 
window of Charles IX. in the Louvre and read, or 
recall the story of the massacre of St. Bartholomew 
and then say : "I do not believe there is any such 
place as hell." If there is no hell, there ought to be 
one for the eternal imprisonment of the royal villain 



44 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

who sat in that window, with his shot-gun, three 
hundred and eighteen years ago, the twenty-fourth of 
last August. 

I cannot tell you one hundreth part of what we 
saw in the Louvre. It contains two thousand pictures 
and acres of statues. Hour after hour we wandered 
through the successive chambers — through a para- 
dise of art. As we could not closely study every 
picture, or even one in a hundred, we gave our time 
almost exclusively to the works of the great masters, 
such as Titian, Rubens, Raphael, Da Vinci, Paul 
Veronese and Murillo. 

We saw seventy-five pictures by Rubens. Chief 
among them is a series of twenty-one, representing 
the life of Marie de Medicis, the wife of King Henry 
IV, and the mother of Louis XIII. Most of them are 
very large. Altogether they would suffice to carpet 
the entire floor of this room. I make that comparison, 
because it is convenient, although it seems almost a 
sin to think of putting such glorious creations of 
human genius to such an ignoble use. And then 
reflect 'that all that canvass was painted, not in coarse 
splashes but with delicate touch, by one man, whose 
works are scattered in rich profusion all over Europe. 
I cannot give you an adequate idea of the marvelous 
conception of these pictures, their gorgeous coloring 
and their perfection of detail. The life of a queenly 
woman is here depicted before the eye, more perfectly 
than you could read it in a hundred books. 

One of the most celebrated pictures in the Louvre 
is Murillo's greatest work, sometimes called the 
" Immaculate Conception," and sometimes the 
"Assumption of the Virgin Mary." The artist got 
his idea from the twelfth chapter of Revelation, where 



PARIS. 45 

the inspired dreamer saw a " woman clothed with the 
sun and the moon under her feet." You see an 
exquisitely pure a j :d beautiful woman (the figure is as 
large as life) with long golden hair, wearing a robe of 
more than snowy whiteness and a mantle of such blue 
as no one but the great Spanish artist was able to 
paint. She is lifted up among the clouds far above 
the sin and sorrow of earth. She stands on a fleecy 
cloud, with one draped foot on the crescent moon. 
Her crimson-tinted, alabaster hands are laid upon her 
bosom. Her face beams with holy, heavenly joy. All 
around, above and below is a circle of cherubs — beau- 
tiful, glorified children — the flowers of heaven. Such 
is the Catholic conception of Mary, the Mother of 
God, the Queen of Angels the Empress of Heaven. 
Though you do not accept that idea, you cannot look 
at Murillo's great master-piece without feeling your 
soul lifted toward heaven and God. That picture 
cost more than one hundred thousand dollars when 
purchased for the Louvre ; millions could not buy it 
now. 

.1 took great pleasure in looking at a painting, by the 
same artist, called " The Kitchen of the Angels." It 
represents the cooking department of a poor monas- 
tery in Spain, with a company of angels busily 
engaged in getting dinner for the monks. The story 
is that the monks were reduced almost to starvation. 
It was a time of general scarcity. What little they 
had had, they had given away to those whom they 
considered more needy than themselves. There was 
not a crust or a crumb left in their pantry. Filled 
with hunger, they went out in the morning to visit the 
sick, and comfort the sorrowing, and save the sinning. 
They forgot themselves in their solicitude for others. 



46 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 

Faint and weary, they returned to the monastery at the 
dinner hour, wondering who would feed them, but 
trusting that in some way the Lord would provide. 
When they came into the refectory, they found a 
sumptuous repast waiting for them, on the table- 
smoking hot. There was something about the food, 
or some celestial odor in the air, which told them that 
the angels had been their cooks. 

That picture had a lesson for me. I tell it now to 
you. I hardly need to tell it. You know what it is. 
Trust in God. He has promised to take care of you, 
so long as you trust and obey him. Some of his 
promises are these : " Trust in the Lord and do good ; 
so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt 
be fed ; " " The Lord God is a sun and shield ; the 
Lord will give grace and glory ; no good thing will be 
withheld from them that walk uprightly ; " " They 
th it seek the Lord sha 1 not want any good thing ; 
" My God shall supply all your need, according to his 
riches in glory by Christ Jesus ; " " All things work 
together for good to them that love God." These 
words do not mean that you are to do nothing for 
yourself; that you are to lie in bed and expect the 
angels to come and make your fire, and provide and 
cook your breakfast. You are to do all you can for 
yourself. You are to be "diligent in business, serv- 
ing the Lord." You are to do all you can for the 
glory of God and the good of humanity. After all 
that, and in all that, you are to leave all your care and 
anxiety with God and believe that he will see that you 
have everything you really need. That picture says 
to you, and to me; "Don't worry! Don't borrow 
trouble about the future ! Don't have an anxious 
thought about your temporal affairs. If God cannot 



PARIS. 47 

take care of you in any other way, he will send down 
a company of angels to cook your food, taken from 
unseen larders, and place it on your table. 

We visited the department of sculpture. We saw 
the world's choicest treasures in marble and bronze. 
There is one statue which surpasses all the rest. 
One of the guide books says : " If the tourist has but 
one hour to devote to the Louvre, one-fourth should 
be given to the Venus de Milo." That is the name 
of the statue at which I now ask you to look. It is 
many hundred years old. No one knows the sculp- 
tor's name. It was found in the island of Melos. 
Some old Greek buried it two thousand years ago. 
The French government purchased it for twelve 
hundred dollars. As many millions could not buy it 
now. It is the draped figure of a beautiful woman, 
in snow-white marble, with both arms broken off. 
That is all it is. There is very little about it to 
describe. And yet it is so wondrously, so indescrib- 
ably beautiful, that it commands the supremest 
admiration of every beholder. 

Do you not wish that you had the power to take a 
block of shapeless marble and hew out of it a form 
of such exquisite beauty and perfection ? You never 
can carve a Venus de Milo. There never will be 
another statue the equal of that. But I will tell you 
what you can do. There are many rough and ugly 
blocks of humanity lying all about us. By prayer 
and earnest effort, you may acquire such skill in 
Christian wonc that you can carve, out of these 
unpromising specimens, characters of such moral 
and spiritual beauty that they will shine in God's 
kingdom for ever and ever, the admiration of saints 
and angels. I want to say to every Sunday-School 



48 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

teacher, to every " King's Daughter," to every Young 
Men's Christian Association worker, to every Chris- 
tian : You can be a spiritual artist if you will. To 
work on character is an infinitely higher profession 
than to work on marble. With the help of the 
divine artist, I am sure you can save, and beautify, 
and develop, and prepare for eternal glory, one soul, 
beside your own. The world is full of material, 
inviting your effort. God is full of power, promis- 
ing you aid. Heaven is full of honors and crowns 
for those who aim at the highest usefulness here. 

We must leave the Louvre. It is a perfect wilder- 
ness of art. All I ever saw before, in this depart- 
ment of human effort, is absolute nothingness in com- 
parison. To attempt to describe what I saw would 
be like counting the drops of the ocean, or telling a 
blind man what a sun set is like. 

Friday was Independence Day, in America. In 
Paris we were not aroused from our morning sleep 
by the blowing of tin-horns and the firing of artillery. 
The only indications that the " Glorious Fourth" had 
come were the display of American flags in many 
parts of the city and the wearing of such flags by 
members of our party, your speaker among the 
number. 

One other thing I had almost forgotten. As we 
walked along the Rue de Rivoli that morning, 
thirty strong, on our way to the Pantheon, we aston- 
ished the natives by lustily singing, " Marching 
Through Georgia." That may not have been very 
genteel ; but our hearts were so bubbling over with 
patriotism that we had to do something to relieve the 
strain. We were strangers in a strange land. Our 
citizenship was in America. We gloried in that 



PARIS. 49 

citizenship. We were proud to display our country's 
flag, and sing our country's songs and let everybody 
know that we were Americans. 

The Christian is a stranger in a strange land. He 
is a pilgrim here below. His home is on the other 
side the flood. His citizenship is in heaven. As he 
marches through this world, he should show his 
colors, everywhere, and all the time ; he should sing 
the songs of Zion ; he should be proud to have every- 
body know that he is a Christian. 

The Pantheon is a very imposing edifice, standing 
about half a mile from the river, on the south side. 
Its shape is that of a Greek cross with equal arms 
370 feet long and 276 wide, with a dome 272 feet 
high. It is embellished, within and without, with an 
immense number of statues ; and its interior walls 
are hung with paintings, mostly historical, of great 
size and beauty. We were led down into vast 
subterranean vaults, where are the tombs of many 
of the greatest men of France. We saw, among 
others, the sarcophagi of Victor Hugo, Voltaire and 
Rousseau. The remains of the last two — detested 
for their infidelity — have been removed, whither no 
one knows. The dust of the first will never be dis- 
turbed, because he feared God and loved his fellow 
men. Hugo and Voltaire are good illustrations of 
that Scripture text which says : " The memory of the 
just is blessed : but the name of the wicked shall 
rot." Men will bless the memory of Hugo, as long 
as the world endures, because his life was a blessing 
to mankind. Voltaire was a curse to the world as 
long as he lived, and his name will be a stench to the 
end of time. 

In the afternoon, with the "stars and stripes" in 



50 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN ERA VEL. 

our button-holes, we went fourteen miles, by rail, to 
Versailles. Versailles is the name of a city, and of a 
palace and park, or garden. Louis XIV. created the 
town and built the palace at an enormous expense, 
as a summer residence for his court. Thirty-six 
thousand men and six thousand horses were employed 
at one time in forming the terraces of the garden 
leveling the park and constructing a road to Paris, 
and an aqueduct a distance of thirty-one miles. 
The palace covers many acres. Its front is fourteen 
hundred feet long. A large part of the structure is 
an art gallery. We went through this. We could 
not do much more than glance at its hundreds on 
hundreds of pictures and statues. The latter are 
mainly representations of the kings and queens and 
princes and generals of France. The former embody 
the history of the French people. The pictures are 
simply magnificent. They bewilder and confuse. 
They are all large, and some of them immense. One, 
the "Taking of the Smalah of Abd el-Kader," is 
seventy feet long and sixteen feet high. There are 
many which are from thirty to fifty, by sixteen. 
There are literally miles on miles of pictures, any' 
one of which would make a gallery in America. 

From the gallery, or museum, we were taken 
through the royal apartments. They are so grand 
and superb that it is useless for me to attempt to 
describe them. I did not imagine that anything 
could exist so beautiful, this side of heaven. We 
saw the bedroom of the King, and the bed in which 
Louis XIV. died. The mural decorations are superb 
and the furniture is in tortoise shell and gilded bronze. 
As I glanced around the apartment — so much more 
gorgeous than anything that I had ever seen that my 



PARIS. 51 

presence there almost seemed a dream — I said to 

myself: I wonder if the old tyrant, who sat on the 

throne of France seventy-two years and died in that 

bed, found death any less bitter for meeting his fate 

in such a beautiful place. 

My friend, do you know what will make a death 

bed easy and a dying pillow soft ? I will answer my 

question in the words of a hymn, whose author tried 

his own medicine nearly a hundred and fifty years 

ago: 

"Jesus can make a dying bed 
Feel soft as downy pillows are, 
While on his breast I lean my head 
And breathe my life out sweetly there." 

Do not spend all your life building a palace and 
making a sumptuous bed in which to die. Live for 
Christ and humanity, though it be in poverty and 
obscurity. Then it will not matter when or where 
you die; for the Son of God will smooth your pillow 
and hold your fainting head, and the angels will 
transport your liberated spirit to its eternal home 
in the palace of heaven. "Let* me die the death of 
the righteous, and let my last end be like his ! " 
In this bedroom of Louis XIV. we saw a tapestry 
picture of the Grand Monarch, which cost one 
hundred and sixty thousand dollars. 

We saw the private apartments of Marie Antoinette, 
from which she was dragged by a Parisian mob, 
after the death of several of her guards, to prison 
and execution. We saw the " Gallery of Mirrors," a 
splendid hall two hundred and forty feet long. On 
one side of the hall are seventeen large arched win- 
dows, commanding a beautiful view of the garden 
and its ornamental sheets of water. Opposite the 
windows are as many mirrors in gilded niches. The 



52 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

ceiling is covered with paintings of great richness 
and harmony. In this hall King William of Prussia 
was proclaimed Emperor of Germany in 1871, after 
the taking of Paris. 

From the palace we went into the garden. I never 
imagined Paradise, before the fall, to be as beautiful 
as this place. The gardens were laid out by Le 
Notre, the most famous landscape-gardener of his 
time. They consist of groves and walks and 
terraces and flower-beds and lawns and pools and 
streams and fountains and statues. I never saw any 
thing of the kind before that would bear any com- 
parison with this. 

On the way back to Paris, with my bewildered 
brain full of the splendors and beauties which I had 
seen, I thought of another city and palace and 
garden, of which I had read in the oldest book in the 
world. The city has a circumference of six thousand 
miles. The wall which surrounds it is built of jasper. 
Each of its twelve gates is a solid pearl. Its streets 
are paved with transparent gold. Its garden has a 
crystal river of liquid life; and trees whose leaves 
are medicine for all diseases, and whose fruits ripen 
every month. Its light is the glory of God. Its 
palace is the house of him to whom all the beautiful 
things in this world are but the coarse embroidery of 
his foot-stool. I suppose what the old Book says 
about that place is only a faint picture of an infinitely 
glorious reality. That reality I am resolved to go 
and see. I am commissioned by my king, to invite 
every one of you to go with me. King Louis XIV. 
died in the palace of Versailles. You may become a 
king, and live and reign in the pa^ce of heaven, for 
ever and ever. What I saw at Versailles made me 



PARIS. 58 

long to see Heaven. I pray that what I have told 
you about Versailles may make you long to see the 
city and palace which Christ has built for the sons 
and daughters of the Heavenly King. 

Saturday morning we took a Seine boat near the 
Royal Bridge and went down the river, about three 
miles to the Exposition Grounds. The grounds and 
buildings are much superior to those of our "Centen- 
nial" at Philadelphia, unless it be that our buildings 
w r ere larger. We did not go into any of the buildings 
except the Eifel Tower. That structure is so familiar 
to everybody, through the pictures seen and the news- 
paper articles read, that I need give no description. 
I will merely state that it is built almost entirely of 
iron; it has room on its several platforms for many 
thousands of people; it is the highest building ever 
erected; its summit is one thousand feet above the 
ground. We all went up to the second platform, 
three hundred and fifty feet from the ground. A 
few of the company (I was not one) went to the top. 
The ascent was made by elevators. It was a pleasure 
to know that we were riding in an American elevator. 

I have since regretted that I did not go to the top 
of the Eifel Tower. I lost a magnificent view, I. 
know, and, I must confess, I lost a measure of my 
self-respect. I had three poor excuses for not going 
any farther than the second stage — first, it would- 
have cost me two francs, and I happened to have an 
economical streak that day; second, the wind was 
blowing very hard and I was afraid, my judgment 
told me the tower could not blow down, yet 1 was 
afraid; third, the ministerial brother with whom I 
was traveling did not wish to go. Please remember 
these flimsy excuses; I cannot call them reasons. I 



54 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

am ashamed to confess them; but I have an object 
in view. 

God has built a tower on this earth, which vastly 
surpasses the Eifel Tower, in every respect. It is 
built on the " Rock of Ages." The material of which 
it is composed is as enduring as eternity. It is large 
enough to hold the whole human family, on each of 
its many platforms. It is lighted with the electric 
lamps of divine truth. Its elevator is operated by 
that omnipotent power which created the earth and 
sent the planets and suns swinging through infinite 
space. If you ask how high God's tower is, I 
answer : I do not know. But it reaches far above 
the dust, mists and clouds of this world. It is so 
high that from its upper stages you can see such 
sights as those who grovel on the earth never 
dreamed of. It is so high that from its top you can 
step off into Heaven, where God has his throne. 
God invites us all to ascend his tower. He com- 
mands us to step into his elevator and be lifted up 
out of sin, into holiness ; up out of unrest, into 
peace ; up out of sadness, into joy ; up out of fear, 
into love ; up out of our life, into his life ; up out of 
earth, into heaven. The great majority of Christians 
have ascended no farther than the first platform. 
A large, but smaller number, are on the second plat- 
form. A few have gone far up, up, up into the high 
experiences of the love of God. The great world of 
irreligious people have got no nearer heaven and 
eternal life than to stand on the ground, under and 
around the tower, and look up. Where are you my 
friend ? 

To Christians on the lower platform of an unsatis- 
factory religious experience, and to the prayerless, 



PARIS. 55 

unregenerated multitudes on the ground of no religi- 
ous experience, I say : Look up ! go up ! Get into 
God's great, free, gospel elevator and let him lift you 
up into purity, and peace, and joy, and perfect love, 
and everlasting bliss ! There are three- foolish, 
flimsy excuses which you make — like mine — for stop- 
ping on the second platform of the Eifel tower. 
First, it will cost you a few paltry pennies of self- 
denial and the surrender of some darling sin. You 
cannot afford to give up the world. to gain eternal 
life. Second, you are afraid. You do not know 
what you are afraid of. Your judgment tells you that 
there is nothing to fear. You are afraid to do right. 
Third, you do not go up because others- stay down. 
You have not the courage to go to heaven alone. 
When it was too late, I was sorry that I did not go to 
the top of the Eifel Tower. When it is too late, when 
" the harvest is passed, the summer is ended, and" 
you " are not saved," you will most bitterly regret 
that you did not go up God's great gospel tower as 
high as omnipotence could lift you. " Now is the 
accepted time ; now is the day of salvation." 

I have only begun to show you Paris, and I must 
draw my discourse to a close. I wish I had time to 
take you to the Hotel des Invalides — or Soldier's 
Home, as we should call it —and show you, under the 
gilded dome of its chapel, the huge polished red 
granite, sixty-seven ton sarcophagus, which holds the 
remains of the great Napoleon. 

You ought to visit the churches of Paris ; especially 
the cathedral of Notre Dame, and see its grand 
interior, and climb one of its twin towers and stand — 
as I did — under its sixteen ton bell, which it takes 
eight men to ring. 



56 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

It would delight you to go through the Palace of 
the Luxembourg, and its splendid gallery of modern 
art. I should like to tell you about the Parisian 
Sabbath, with its busy shops and hurrying crowds 
and military parades and almost empty churches, 
that you might learn to prize your American Sabbath 
and resolve to preserve it in its purity. 

You must take one more walk with me, and then 
we will turn our backs on Paris. We went one after- 
noon along the Rue de Rivoli to the Place de la 
Concorde, where stands the Obelisk of Luxor, brought 
from Egypt in 1833. It stands on the very spot where 
the guillotine stood in the days of the French Revo- 
lution, where 2,800 persons were beheaded. At this 
spot begins the grandest avenue in the world— the 
Champs Elysees — which runs one mile and a third 
west to the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile. We walked 
the entire length of this avenue both ways. It is 
impossible for any description to do it justice. It is 
lined with lawns, trees, flower-beds, fountains, statues 
and palaces, and swarms with life and splendor. At 
about its middle stands the Palace of Industry — one 
of the first exposition buildings — on the south, and 
the Palais de l'Elysee — the residence of the Presi- 
dent of the Republic — on the north. Near the west- 
ern end of the avenue the church of the Madeleine 
looks down upon it from the north ; and the Hotel 
des Invalides, across the river, from the south. 

The Triumphal Arch, at the western terminus of 
the Champs Elysees, is a monument of Napoleon's 
victories. It is called Arc de Triomph de l'Etoile, or 
the Triumphal Arch of the Star, because it stands at 
a place where twelve beautiful streets radiate like the 
points of a star. It is a glorious structure, the largest 



PARIS. 57 

of the kind m the world, one hundred and sixty feet 
high, one hundred and forty-six wide and seventy- 
two deep. It is covered with statues and carvings, 
and with the names of one hundred and forty-two 
battles, and of as many generals who fought under 
the banners of France. 

As I stood there, that afternoon, under that mag- 
nificent arch, looking down to the Obelisk of Luxor 
and the Garden of Tuileries, I thought of another 
avenue which mortal feet have never trod. It runs 
from the farther bank of the River of Death up 
through the City of God. It is paved with crystaline 
gold. It is flanked with battlements of radiant pearl. 
It is lined with palaces of dazzling light — the many 
mansions of which Jesus has spoken in his word. On 
it walk immortals, clad in spotless white, with palms 
of victory and crowns of glory. On it ride the 
chariots of God, with wheels of lightning and horses 
of fire. At its farther end, spanning the eternities 
and rising into the immensities, stands a triumphal 
arch. It is covered with the names of the battles in 
which the Great Captain of our Salvation fought for 
us, and with the names of his soldiers who " overcame 
by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testi- 
mony." 

If, in this life, you are a good soldier of the cross, 
you will walk up that avenue ; you will stand under 
that arch ; you will see your name written there ; 
you will receive a crown and a palm ; a palace will 
be assigned to you ; and, through eternity, you will 
live in perfect and ever-increasing glory and joy. 



58 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 



IV. 
SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 

" Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou 
hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting 
to everlasting, thou art God" — Psalm XC, 2. 

In saying over this text in your minds I wish you 
to put heavy emphasis on the word mountains. "P>efore 
the mountains were brought forth, thou art God." I 
have chosen these words as the text of the present 
discourse, because I purpose to take you among the 
mountains, and we shall need some such language to 
express the religious emotions which will stir our 
hearts when we come to stand in the presence of 
those sublimest works of the Almighty. 

We left Paris Monday morning, July 7, at eight 
o'clock, and were on the rail all day. For some hours 
our journey lay through a rich, rolling country exhib- 
iting every evidence of great fertility and thorough 
tillage. The places where the train stopped were 
mostly small villages. The exceptions were Fontain- 
bleau, where is a palace, once the favorite residence 
of Napoleon and Josephine, thirty-seven miles from 
Paris, and Dijon. At the latter place we changed 
cars and had to wait an hour. We employed the time 
in walking about the town. It is a place of consider- 
able importance, having about forty thousand inhabi- 
tants, once the capital of the kingdom of Burgundy. 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 59 

During the Franco-German war it suffered siege and 
bombardment. We visited a very old cathedral 
which we found undergoing extensive repairs; also 
a delightful public garden or park. 

As we flew southward from Dijon, the country grew 
more hilly, and many elevations appeared crowned 
with ruins of castles. Still farther to the south, or 
south-east, we saw distant mountains -the Juras — 
the natural boundary between the republics of 
France and Switzerland, and the scenery grew 
decidedly romantic and picturesque. 

At ten o'clock at night we got off the cars at the 
village of Vallorbes, in Switzerland, three hundred and 
one miles from Paris. We obtained comfortable 
quarters at a queer old tavern, where we found the 
strangest mixture of old things and new. For example, 
in our room we had no light but that of candles, but 
might have summoned a servant by ringing an electric 
bell. When we looked out of the window the next 
morning, we saw mountains all about us, and began 
to realize that we were getting into the region of the 
Alps. At seven o'clock we left for Lausanne, on Lake 
Geneva, twenty-nine miles from Vallorbes. As we 
flew onward, the scenery grew more rugged and the 
mountains more lofty. 

Lausanne is a beautiful city of thirty thousand 
inhabitants. It is a great summer resort. It has many 
good educational institutions. It is famed as the place 
where Gibbon wrote his " History of the Decline and 
Fall of the Roman Empire," and Byron his " Prisoner 
of Chiilon." We had no time to see the sights of Lau- 
sanne. Without delay we embarked on a beautiful 
steamer, called the " France," for the city of Geneva. 
We had a most delightful sail of twenty-nine miles. 



60 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 

The scenery, all the way, was surpassingly beautiful 
and grand. The best views were on the southern side. 
From the shore rose beautiful green slopes, sprinkled 
with farm-houses and villages, just behind which 
towered lofty mountain peaks and ranges. 

Ere long we were in Geneva. Geneva is a beauti- 
ful city of fifty thousand inhabitants, situated on both 
banks of the Rhone, at the point where it issues out 
of the lake. Its industry is nearly confined to the 
manufacture of watches, jewelry and music-boxes. 
Geneva is interesting to our Presbyterian friends as 
*the home of John Calvin, and to all English-speaking 
Protestants as the place where an important transla- 
tion of the Holy Scriptures into our mother tongue 
was made. During the sixteenth century, so many 
religious refugees, from Italy, Spain, France and 
England, found a home within its walls that it was 
justly called the " Rome of Protestantism." 

We had less than an hour in Geneva. A rail-road 
ride of twenty-six miles brought us to Cluses, a small 
town chiefly inhabited by watch-makers, 1590 feet 
above the level of the sea. I need not say that we saw 
splendid scenery on this route. We were all the time 
winding around among the mountains and along their 
slopes, the summits of the more distant ones being 
covered with snow. We kept flying from one side of 
the car to the other, according as this window or that 
presented the finer view. 

At Cluses we took the diligence for Chamonix 
twenty-seven miles distant. This was a ride long to 
be remembered. Twenty-six of us rode in one large 
triple-decked coach, or diligence, drawn by five 
horses. Beside us there were the driver and two 
footmen — twenty-nine in all in one carriage. The 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 61 

road twisted around and around, ever up, up, up, in 
the midst of the grandest scenery I ever saw, for we 
were getting into tne heart of the Alps. On both 
sides of the narrow valley rose cloud-piercing, snow- 
capped mountains, adorned on their rugged sides with 
frequent glaciers and water falls. We kept exclaiming: 
" Beautiful ! splendid ! grand ! sublime ! glorious ! " 
till our language broke down, and we were actually 
weary of the grandeur of Nature's works. We had 
been visiting man's cathedrals and art-galleries. Now 
we were in God's all-glorious temple, beholding the 
works of his own infinite hands. 

We did not reach Chamonix till after night had 
settled down upon us. My ministerial comrade and 
myself went immediately to the '' Hotel de la Poste,'' 
and to rest, in as good beds as were ever made, in a 
large and elegant room-. When we awoke, it was 
broad day-light, and the sun was streaming in at our 
windows. Though we did not know it, we were about 
to experience the greatest joy of our natural lives. 
Throwing open our windows towards the south, we 
saw the sublimest spectacle our eyes had ever behe d. 
Before us, as far as we could see from right to left, 
were the mountains of God, with snow-clad summits 
gleaming in the sun, so intensely bright that we could 
hardly endure to look. One stood king among his 
fellows. My first exclamation was : "glorious ! " I 
never saw anything that so lifted me out of myself, 
and seemed to lift me above the world and almost 
into heaven, as those dazzling, sky-piercing mountains. 
Tears of wonder and joy burst from my eyes. My 
whole frame quivered with over-powering emotions. 
I was in an ecstasy of amazement and delight. We 
did not then suspect that we were looking at Mt- 



63 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA J EL. 

Blanc. We were. That peak, which looked so near 
that we would have said that we could climb to its 
summit in an hour, was the king of the Alps — 12,275 
feet above where we stood, two and three-fourths of 
a mile above the sea and so distant that a man needs 
three days and two guides to climb to its brow and 
return. There stood Mt. Blanc, as he had stood since 
the morning of creation ; and there we stood looking 
at him — two American travelers, praising God for the 
sight and for the brightest morning since our landing 
on European soil. 

We were in the far-famed Vale of Chamonix, 3,445 
feet ahove the level of the ocean. It is a charming 
place. The poets and painters have not exaggerated 
its charms. It is very fertile — supporting four 
thousand inhabitants — frequented in summer by 
thousands of travelers from all parts of the world 
and framed all around with mountains of indescrib- 
able grandeur. 

My experience at Chamonix and in the " Hotel de 
la Poste " seems to me to symbolize that spiritual 
experience which we call conversion. The weather 
had been cloudy and damp ever since we landed at 
Antwerp. It had rained more or less every day. 
Much of the time, in Paris, it had poured. We 
reached Chamonix in the night. It was very dark 
when I went to sleep in the hotel. But Wednesday 
morning I suddenly found myself under a cloudless 
sky, in the most dazzling sunlight, face to face with 
the mountains of God lifting their summits — as it 
seemed — into the very heaven of heavens. 

The natural man — the sinner — has been in spirit- 
ual darkness ever since he landed, out of the eternity 
past, upon these shores of time. If he has seen any 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 63 

thing, it has been dimly, as in a fog. Life has been 
to him one long rainy day. By and by he turns his 
face towards the highlands of divine illumination, 
the Switzerland of purity, love and truth. He studies 
that great guide-book and time-table — the Bible. He 
gets on board the gospel train. He starts for the 
sunny South. The mountains begin to appear, with 
shadows and blackness around their bases and some 
whiteness on their tops. The mountains get higher. 
The air grows purer. Heaven seems nearer. He 
gets into God's great diligence of prayer, drawn by 
heaven's white horses of faith. He ascends higher 
and higher. He thinks he is getting up into the 
better life, the real life, the life of God. But dark- 
ness comes down upon him. Not knowing where he 
is, and tempted to believe that there is no light and 
salvation for such a wretched sinner as he, he never- 
theless throws himself, with all his weight, upon the 
divine mercy and promises, as the weary American 
tourist threw himself upon that bed in the ''Hotel 
de la Poste." Then he rests, without any light or joy 
or consciousness of the divine presence. Morning 
comes He springs to his feet. By an act of faith 
he throws open the shutters of his soul. Instantly 
his whole being is flooded with light and joy and 
glory. Every cloud has vanished from his sky. He 
is in Chamonix's flowery vale of conscious salvation. 
All around him are the snow-white mountain peaks 
of God's unspeakable love ; and towering above all 
the rest is the Mt. Blanc of perfect assurance that 
God loves him. He knows that all his sins are for- 
given ; that his name is written in heaven ; that he 
is a new creature in Jesus Christ. 

My friend, have you had that experience ? Thou- 



64 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 

sands have. It is for you. You can have it, if you 
will. You may never see the physical, Alpine Mt. 
Blanc ; but, with the eyes of your soul, you may see 
the Mt. Blanc of the divine reconciliation, and know 
your sins forgiven. 

I think I never saw anything so white as the snow 
on those Alpine peaks, flooded with the beams of the 
morning sun. As I looked and looked, and won- 
dered and rejoiced, and turned away with dazzled, 
swimming eyes, I thought I could see a new force 
and beauty in that promise in Isaiah : " Though your 
sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow" and 
those words of the Psalmist, when he says to God : 
"Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow" What ! 
can God wash my heart, naturally so sinful, and 
make it whiter than the snow on yonder far-off 
mountain summit ? Yes! That is his word. 

" What can wash away my sins ? 
Nothing but the blood of Jesus." 

The crimson blood of Calvary's Lamb, applied by 

faith to the heart of the vilest wretch that ever lived 

can wash it whiter than the whitest Alpine snow. 

Wednesday morning we all armed ourselves with 
alpenstocks (sticks of wood about five feet long, 
pointed with sharp iron) and started for a large 
glacier, called the Mer de Glace. A hard climb of 
several hours brought us — some on foot and some on 
mules — to the Mer de Glace Hotel, 6,303 feet above 
the level of the sea. After a good rest, and a lunch 
of bread and chocolate, we went down, some hun- 
dreds of feet, to the edge of the glacier. 

Do you know what a glacier is ? Hours would be 
required to tell all about glaciers. A few sentences 
will give a general idea of their origin and nature. 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 65 

On the tops of all mountains which rise far above 
the line of perpetual winter, snow accumulates in 
enormous quantities. Being unable to melt, it is 
gradually consolidated into ice, by pressure and cold, 
and begins to slide down the mountain side. As it 
moves slowly, but irresistibly, along it tears away 
masses of rock and breaks them into pieces, large 
and small. Some of these pieces it grinds into gravel, 
sand and powder ; others it tosses right and left, 
forming rows of debris on both sides of the ice 
stream, called moraines. The middle of the glacier 
moves faster than the sides ; the top moves faster 
than the bottom. Consequently the ice is split into 
numerous crevasses, and is heaved up into ridges and 
hillocks and peaks. The lower portions of the 
glacier yield to the melting influences of the sun and 
the rain, supplying the crevasses with roaring torrents, 
and sending out streams, large and small, into the 
valleys below. The glacier terminates exactly where 
the melting of the ice equals the supply pushed down 
from the snow reservoirs of the higher mountains. 
The largest glaciers are about thirty miles long, and 
two or three miles wide, in their widest places. Their 
rate of motion varies from summer to winter and 
from the middle to the sides. It may be roughly 
estimated at about one inch an hour. 

So you see a glacier may be called a river of ice. 
The name of the one which we visited means a sea of 
ice. It seemed to me like a stormy sea suddenly 
frozen, and cleft with frequent crevasses of unknown 
depth. 

Ic was with considerable trembling that I ventured 
upon its surface. I was told that I must have woolen 
socks over my boots to keep from slipping, and a 



66 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

pair was offered me, for money, at the hotel. But I 
refused them, and, grasping my alpenstock with both 
hands, and heading the party, I launched out from 
the shore. At the first dive, I came near sliding off 
into a crevasse. Walking, sliding, creeping, crawling, 
running, jumping, I made my way towards the west- 
ern bank. On the edge of numerous crevasses I 
paused, and, leaning on my alpenstock, looked far 
down into the icy depths and listened to the thunder- 
ing torrent, and wondered what would become of my 
corpse if I should tumble in. I thought of friends 
far away and said to myself : If I can help it, I will 
not die here like a fly in a pitcher of ice water. After 
about twenty minutes of the sharpest looking and 
most intense straining of nerves and the most rigorous 
exercise of muscles that I ever experienced, I found 
myself on solid ground, shouting back to my com- 
rades who were half way across. 

That glacier had two lessons for me. The first was 
a lesson of trust in the word of God. Without my 
alpenstock, with its tough shaft supporting my weight, 
and its iron point sticking into the ice, I could never 
have crossed the Mer de Glace. Had I attempted the 
passage, unarmed, my body would now be sleeping in 
the sands of some river, or in the mysterious depth of 
that great crystal tomb. 

What his alpenstock is to the tourist, crossing a 
glacier, the Bible is to the Christian, traversing this 
unfriendly world. The glacier — cold, rough, slippery, 
and seamed with frequent crevasses — represents the 
world through which the Christian must journey to 
get to heaven. The world is cold enough to freeze 
all spiritual life. It is rough enough to discourage 
the stoutest heart. It is so slippery that no man can 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 67 

stand in his own strength. It has deep crevasses of 
temptations into which the most wary and sure-footed 
are in danger of falling. It has roaring torrents of 
lust and sin, fierce enough to sweep away the strongest 
wills. No man can cross this glacier, called the world, 
without the alpenstock of God's word — the Holy 
Bible. Leaning on that, by daily study and medita- 
tion, and thrusting some sharp-pointed text into every 
difficulty of life, you may climb every hillock, and 
steer your feet down every incline, and leap over every 
crevasse, and joyously reach the shore of eternal deliv- 
erance. He who journeys through this world care- 
fully, thoughtfully, leaning, with intellect and heart, 
with study and obedience, on God's Holy Bible, will 
be sure of a happy and successful life. 

The other lesson which Mer de Glace taught me was 
the power of combined units. The glacier is one of the 
mightiest manifestations of power which this world 
contains. It tears away the stony flesh of old mother 
earth. It grinds the hardest rocks into powder. It 
strews valleys with the wreck of mountains. 
It makes and unmakes lakes and rivers at will. It has 
produced nearly all the soil which gives food to man 
and beast. Nothing can stay its course. And yet, the 
glacier is nothing but a vast collection of snow-flakes, 
combined and consolidated. There is no power, which 
we can perceive, in a single snow-flake. But there is 
power, almost infinite, when enough snow-flakes com- 
bine to form a glacier. 

One man or woman, acting alone, is much like a 
snow-flake. One good man, or woman, acting alone, 
can never reform the* world and break ancient evils 
into pieces. But if all the good people in the world 
would combine and consolidate, nothing could resist 



63 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

their onward push ; Satan's kingdom would be torn 
down, and evil customs and institutions would be 
ground into gravel and sand. If all Christians would 
forget their differences and unite their forces, they 
could pulverize the rum traffic and reduce intemper- 
ance to fine dust which the wind could drive away. 
When will the scattered snow-flakes of sectarian and 
partisan division and weakness unite in the irresistible 
glacier of the world's salvation ? Such thoughts 
passed through my brain, as I stood on the western 
moraine of the Mer de Glace, leaning on my alpen- 
stock, waiting for the rest of the party to come up. 

We went down into the valley on the glacier's west- 
ern side. The descent was by a narrow path, on the 
face of the mountain. One part of the path is called 
the " Mauvais Pas," or the "Bad Path." For half a 
mile we had to walk on the narrowest imaginable 
ledge, with the mountain rising almost perpendicu- 
larly above our heads and falling away a thousand 
feet below The only way we could get along at all 
was by clinging to an iron railing fastened to the rock. 
All our company traversed the Bad Path in safety and 
reached the valley, where a smooth high-way brought 
us to the village of Chamonix and to our hotel. 

W@ saw many curious sights on the road. We saw 
women working in the fields, and tugging along the 
way with hugh bundles of wood, or hay, on their 
heads. Wherever we went v in Europe, we saw women 
tolling in the fields and streets, doing the work which 
in this country belongs to the men. Why are Ameri- 
can women exempt from severe, out-door labor ? I 
think it is because a purer and more advanced type of 
Christianity prevails here than in Europe. If Christ, 
the Virgin's son, the friend of woman, should be 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 69 

driven out of America, heavier burdens would imme- 
diately be piled on woman's shoulders ; and, ere long, 
she would become the beast of burden and slave, 
which she now is in all non-christian and heathen 
lands. 

Woman owes more than man to the . Christian 
religion. Every man ought to be a Christian. Every 
woman is under double obligation to give her heart to 
Jesus Christ. The greatest monster of ingratitude and 
wickedness in the world is a female infidel. 

We saw other unusual sights that afternoon. We 
saw men cutting grass with broad scythes, about two 
and a half feet long, fastened to straight handles. We 
saw women washing in big troughs, made for the 
purpose, with water running through, rubbing the gar- 
ments on smooth boards laid across the troughs. We 
saw a woman driving three cows, holding a basket of 
yarn on her left arm, and knitting with all her might- 
Everybody has to work in that country, and work all 
the time. We saw great numbers of cows feeding by 
the road-side and in the fields, each animal wearing 
a bell suspended to her neck by means of a leather 
strap about six inches wide. Through all the valley, 
the evening air was resonant with the music of these 
tinkling bells. We passed frequent crucifixes and 
crosses, where inscriptions invite the passer by to stop 
and pray. Thus we reached our hotel, after an excur- 
sion twelve miles long. 

Before we leave Chamonix, I must show you a 
beautiful work of art. Standing in an open space 
near our hotel, is a piece of sculpture, in bronze, on 
a granite base, representing a French scientist, 
named Saussure, and an Alpine guide, named Balmat. 
It commemorates the first ascension of Mt. Blanc 



70 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

ever made, effected by these two men in 1787. It 
was erected just one hundred years after that event. 
Saussure stands, in tourist' s costume, with spy-glass 
and alpenstock, eagerly looking towards the mountain 
top. On his face is an expression of noble ambition 
and high resolve. At his right hand stands Balmat, 
the guide, with a coil of- rope around his waist, ready 
to start, looking as though he could almost fly. His 
left hand is on Saussure's shoulder. With the index 
finger of his upraised right hand he points straight 
at Mt. Blanc's snow-capped peak. Summer and 
winter, in sunshine and fog, by day and by night, 
whenever there is sufficient light to reveal them, that 
finger and those faces tell the visitor where the king 
of mountains is standing. I think there is more 
inspiration in that statue than in any other that I 
ever saw. I could not look at it — and I studied it 
long and earnestly, many times— without feeling a 
strong desire to rise into a higher plane of intellect- 
ual and spiritual living. It always said to my soul : 
"Up ! up ! Attempt something high and great for 
God and humanity ! " 

What Balmat was to Saussure, and what Balmat's 
statue is to every beholder, some men, whom we 
know, are to all among whom they live. I could 
give you the name of such a man. He can always 
be depended upon. His integrity is as unbending as 
a statue of bronze. He could no more do a mean 
and dishonest act than the sun could reverse its 
course through the heavens. He is always the same, 
in all seasons of the year, and all days of the week. 
He is always in his place, at church, and everywhere 
else. He is always ready to give a reason for the 
hope that is in him. His testimony is always straight 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 71 

and clear for God and the truth. By word and act, 
by profession and living, he points the way to the 
mountain-top of holiness, to the gate of heaven. He 
is not like a church-spire always pointing and never 
going. Like Balmat, the Alpine guide, he points and 
goes. He points and leads the way. 

Multitudes of men and women — some of them 
church-members too — are nothing but noisy weather- 
cocks, rattling in the breeze and whirling with the 
wind. My friend, why not stand for truth and 
righteousness, like a statue of bronze ? Why not be 
a high-souled guide, leading multitudes to the Alpine 
summits of purity and eternal life ? You can, if you 
are so determined, by the grace of God. 

Thursday our whole company were to go to 
Martigny. There are two passes out of one valley 
into the other. One is called Tete Noire ; and the 
other Col de Balme. Fifteen of the party — myself 
being one -decided to take the latter. That meant 
a walk of fifteen miles. The others chose the other 
route and to ride in carriages. We set out at 
quarter to eight in the morning, and all rode together 
— that is, in the same procession — seven miles to 
Argentiere. Then ten women and five men began to 
climb. It was climbing too, much of the way of 
the most difficult kind. At eleven forty, after two 
hours of "excelsior,' we reached the Col de Balme, 
7,225 feet above the level of the sea, and 3,262 feet 
above the place where our climb began. 

We were weary ; but felt amply repaid for our 
effort by the magnificent views we had of the grandest 
mountain scenery. We found a chalet, into which we 
hurried to escape a storm which we saw approaching 

Soon the storm of wind and rain and hail burst 



72 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

upon the house. We were in the very midst of the 
cloud. The rain and hail did not have to fall, unless 
it might be a few inches ; they were manufactured 
right on the spot. We were in the very nursery of 
the Storm King, where his demons are born and 
trained for their work of destruction. The throne of 
old Jupiter Tonans was just in front of the door of 
the chalet. It was terrific, yet delightful — an exper- 
ience never to be forgotten. There, nearly a thousand 
feet higher than the summit of Mt. Washington in 
New Hampshire, we warmed ourselves at a good fire 
and ate a refreshing lunch of bread, butter, cheese, 
honey and hot milk. After lunch some of us went 
out and had a game of snow-balling. Think of that ! 
snow-balling the tenth day of July ! 

Then we started down the mountain, on the eastern 
side. The ascent had been hard for heart and lungs. 
The descent was hard for feet and legs. But we had 
many delightful experiences to relieve the tedium. 
We had found flowers all the way long. That after- 
noon we found a field of many acres, on the mountain 
side, which was one vast bed of wild blossoms of 
many kinds. On that, and the previous day, one of 
our ladies collected more than seventy different 
varieties of wild flowers. A rapid descent of an hour 
and a half, and an ascent of three-quarters of an 
hour, brought us to the spot where we could see the 
beautiful Rhone valley, and the city of Martigny, 
lying two thousand feet below us. Two hours of 
further effort brought us, greatly exhausted, to the 
Hotel de Mount Blanc in Martigny. An old guide, 
whom we met at the hotel, told us that no lady had 
ever before made that journey in one day. That 
made us proud of our nine American women. 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 73 

Friday morning we left Martigny and went by 
rail, one hundred and forty-three miles to Visp. 
There we changed to a new road up the Visp valley 
toward Zermatt. After riding six miles, as far as 
the road had been finished, we walked — a part rode 
on mules — from Stalden to St. Nicholas. The day 
was hot, the road rough, and we became very weary. 
After dinner we rode in carriages twelve miles to 
Zermatt, when we took rooms at the Hotel Zermat- 
terhoff. Zermatt is a little village with many large 
hotels, 5,315 feet above the level of the sea, at the 
foot of the far-famed Matterhorn.. The place owes 
all its importance to its location. Scores of thou- 
sands of visitors come here every summer to see the 
Matterhorn and its glaciers. 

There is nothing in nature that suggests God, as 
much as mountain scenery. It does not seem to me 
that a man, born and living among the Alps, could 
possibly be an atheist. If he should stand, as I did 
that Wednesday morning, looking at Mt. Blanc, from 
the hotel window at Chamonix, and should say, 
" there is no God," it seems as though all the moun- 
tains which shut in that valley would answer back, 
in one thundering chorus " There is a God. You are 
a fool, if you say there is no God who created us." 

The one attribute of deity which, above all others, 
the mountains proclaim is his eternity. God is 
eternal. He never began to be ; he will never cease 
to be. Can you comprehend that thought ? Your 
existence is a straight line, beginning back there a 
little distance. God's existence is a circle, without 
beginning or end. That may be hard to believe. 
But it is harder to believe in the eternity of matter ; 
and one or the other must be the truth. We all 



74 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

believe in the eternity of God. We can all repeat 
the Old Testament text : " Before the mountains 
were brought forth or even thou hadst formed the 
earth or the world, even from everlasting to ever- 
lasting, thou art God." 

Another truth I want to leave with every one of 
you. Before every human being stretches an eternity 
of existence. We began to be ; but we shall never 
cease to be. Now comes the awfully solemn ques- 
tion : Where do you expect to spend eternity ? 
Eternity ! eternity ! eternity ! If all the Alps were 
ground up into separate grains of sand, and an 
immortal bird should come once in a million years 
and carry away a single grain, the last grain would 
at length disappear. At that far-off point, the life- 
time of your soul would be just commenced. 

Where do you expect to be when the glaciers have 
worn away the loftiest mountains, and the moon has 
become tired of shining, and the sun is nothing but 
a blackened cinder ? You will be somewhere, in bliss 
or woe, in glory or shame. Where will you be ? 
God has put you in this world on purpose that you 
may prepare for eternity. Are you using your God- 
given powers and opportunities in such a way as 
makes it probable that you will have a happy 
eternity ? Eternity ! eternity ! Where do you 
expect to spend eternity ? 



OUT OF SWITZERLAND INTO ITALY 



V. 

OUT OF SWITZERLAND INTO ITALY. 

" And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall 
be called the way of holiness ; the unclean shall not pass over 
it ; but it shall be for those: the wayfaring men, though fools , 
shall not .err therein ." — Isaiah xxxv., 8. 

I have chosen this verse as the text of the evening 
because it speaks of a highway, a road, and I wish to 
tell you about a wonderful road by which I went out 
of Switzerland into Italy. But we are not quite 
ready to leave the region of the Alps. Before you 
start for Italy, you must see more of the strange and 
wonderful sights of Switzerland. 

At the close of last Sunday evening's discourse we 
were at Zermatt. We reached that place Friday 
evening, July 12. Zermatt is a little village of about 
five hundred inhabitants, 5,315 feet above the level 
of the sea. It lies in a green valley with pine-clad 
slopes, above which rise lofty, snow-crowned moun- 
tains. In no other place is the traveler so completely 
admitted into the heart of the Alpine world — into 
the very sanctuary of the. " Spirit of the Alps." 
Zermatt consists of a few narrow, winding streets, a 
dozen little stores, a post-office, a bank, a Roman 
Catholic church, an English church, a few scores of 
small, mean dwellings, and three large and elegant 
hotels. The hotels all belong to one man ; and all 
have the same rates for entertainment. We selected 



76 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

the one which bears the name Zermatterhoff. Its 
piazzas and windows, on the south and west, com- 
mand a magnificent view of the huge rock-pyramid 
of the far-famed Matterhorn. To see the Maiterhorn 
and its glaciers, we had come to Zermatt. We merely 
glanced at the mountain that night. We were too 
hungry and weary to care for anything but food and 
bed. We could see more beauty in a good dinner 
than in a dozen of the highest mountains ; more sat- 
isfaction in a soft pillow than in a hundred of the 
roughest glaciers. We went to bed, intending to 
spend Saturday in climbing toward the summit of the 
Matterhorn, and in visiting one or more of the many 
glaciers which adorn its rugged sides. But when we 
awoke, in the morning, it was raining, and a dense 
fog filled all the air so that we could not see a 
mountain or anything else. We were greatly disap- 
pointed. However, we concluded that the foul 
weather was a blessing sent to compel us to take 
needed rest. We spent the day in writing, reading 
and roaming through the village. We rummaged 
every store and examined all the curious things 
exposed for sale. Our admiration was greatly excited 
by an immense variety of elegant carvings in wood, 
for which the Swiss are famous throughout the world. 
We purchased a few of the smaller and cheaper 
articles, and coveted — I trust in no wicked spirit — a 
multitude of the larger and more expensive ones. 

Sunday morning dawned clear and bright, though 
cold ; and the Matterhorn stood exposed, in all his 
majesty, with a mantle of fresh snow thrown over his 
shoulders. That dark, foggy, rainy Saturday, that 
would not let us see the mountain which we had 
traveled long, weary miles on purpose to see, had a 



OUT OF SI VITZERL, I ND INTO I T, I L Y. 77 

lesson forme, which I will tell to you. It was a les- 
son of faith and trust. Though we could not see the 
mountain, we knew it was there ; and we firmly 
believed that we should see it, if we only waited long 
enough. The most faithful Christian experiences 
many dark days in the course of his journey through 
this world. Though he may have been delivered, 
once for all, from the darkness of sin and guilt, he 
never will be wholly delivered, in this life, from the 
darkness of temptation and sorrow and mental 
depression and physical infirmity. He must expect 
to see some gloomy, foggy, rainy days. If he is 
what and where he ought to be, he lives all the time 
in the Zermatt of pardon and salvation, right at the 
base of the snow-clad Matterhorn of divine love and 
power and protection. Sometimes, for days and 
weeks and months, not a drop of rain falls, not a 
cloud obscures the sky, not a streak of mist darkens 
the landscape. He can see the mountain all the time. 
He feels the presence of God. He is conscious of 
the divine favor. He can '• read his title clear to 
mansions in the skies." Satan seems to be dead. 
No temptation vexes his soul. His heart is filled 
with peace and joy. By and by the weather changes. 
Darkness gathers all about him. The conscious 
presence of God is withdrawn. Fierce temptations 
assail his soul. He is tempted to believe that God 
has forsaken him ; or that there is no God, who cares 
for human creatures. A terrible feeling of depression 
comes upon him, driving all joyous emotions from 
his breast. Perhaps, to make the darkness still 
blacker, some overwhelming sorrow comes upon him, 
and the tempter hisses in his ear, " God has aban- 
doned you, God hates you ; curse God and die." I 



78 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

have given you an extreme case, perhaps ; but every 
Christian in this house has seen such days of dark- 
ness, if not quite so dark. You remember the story 
of Job. He had enjoyed a long period of uninter- 
rupted prosperity. He had lived for years where he 
could see the dazzling summit of the mountain of 
God's special love and favor. He was loaded down 
with temporal and spiritual blessings. He owned 
seven thousand sheep, and three thousand camels, 
and five hundred yoke of oxen. He was the richest 
man in all that country. He had seven sons and 
three daughters. Hosts of friends thronged around 
him. He possessed everything that heart could 
desire. 

But there came a terribly stormy day. The moun- 
tain of God's presence was completely hidden. All 
his property was swept away. They told him that all 
his children were dead. A filthy and painful disease 
seized his body. His friends turned against him. 
And even his wife looked upon him with hatred and 
contempt.- That was the darkest and most stormy 
day ever put on record. And yet the mountain of 
God's love and protection was there, if Job could not 
see it. The old patriarch held fast his integrity. He 
would not give up his trust in the Almighty. In the 
beginning of his troubles he said : "The Lord gave, 
and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name 
of the Lord." When the darkness of his sorrow was 
blackest, he exclaimed : " Though he slay me, yet will 
I trust in him ! " He held on ; he waited ; he trusted 
in the Invisible. By and by the storm ceased ; the 
darkness passed away. The mountain was there. 
God was there. A brighter day shone upon the man 
of Uz than he had ever seen before. 



OUT OF SWITZERLAND INTO ITALY. 79 

What do you do, what ought you to do, my 
Christian friend, when the darkness of temp- 
tation, or sorrow, or mental depression, or physical 
weakness comes upon you, so that you can see noth- 
ing and feel nothing of the care and love of God ? 
You ought to do what we, American tourists, did that 
rainy day at Zermatt. You ought to rest and wait — 
wait till the storm and darkness are over. You ought 
to say, "The mountain is there, just the same as 
though I could see it. God loves me, just the same 
as though I could feel it. As the moun- 
tains are round about Zermatt, so the Lord is round 
about his people from henceforth, even for ever." 

We needed that rainy day at Zermatt. It was a 
blessing to us. In the developement of our charac- 
ter we all need rainy days as well as days of sunshine. 
There is much beauty and truth in Longfellow's little 
poem " The Rainy Day :" 

" The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary; 
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall, 
And the day is dark and dreary. 

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary; 
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past, 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, 
And the days are dark and dreary. 

Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
Into each life some rain must fall, 
Some days must be dark and dreary." 

How did we spend that bright Sunday at Zermatt 

after the rainy Saturday ? Some of the company, 

who had left their religion on the other side of the 

ocean, went up on the mountain side to see the glacier 

which the rain hindered us from seeing the day before. 



80 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

The rest of us went to church. In the morning we 
went to the Episcopalian Church ; in the afternoon we 
went to the Catholic Church. There was no one among 
us who belonged to either of these communions. 
But we acted upon this principle : Go to church 
somewhere. On God's day, go to God's house. If 
you cannot find the church which you consider the 
best for you, go to the next best. Do not brand 
yourself a heathen by refusing to worship anywhere. 
Go to some place of worship every Sabbath day. 
When not at church, I spent most of that day sitting 
on the veranda of the hotel, or at one of the windows, 
with my eyes fastened on the mountain top. The 
sight was fascinating, and I could not get enough of 
its beauty and grandeur. In the German language 
it is called the Matterhorn ; in the French Mt. 
Cervin. It has an altitude of 14,825 feet above the 
level of the sea, and 9,510 above Zermatt. Mt. 
Blanc surpasses it by 905 feet. 

Come and stand with me and look at this mon- 
arch of the Alps. At our right is a long mountain 
ridge, edged with snow, running northward beyond 
our vision. On our left is a line of snow-crowned 
peaks. In front is a third mountain spine, stretching 
across, with ravines between it and its companion 
ranges. Its upper portions are white with snow, while 
its lower parts are black with forests and rocks. Out 
of the top and back part of that cross ridge, the Mat- 
terhorn shoots up toward the sky. It seems to termi- 
nate in a sharp point. It curves a little toward the east. 
Its shape is much like that of the horns of a yearling 
animal of the bovine species. For a distance of four 
thousand feet down from its apex, it is nothing but 
bare rock. I mean, bare of soil and trees. It is always 



OUT OF SWITZERLAND INTO ITALY. 81 

covered with snow. To-day it wears a fresh mantle 
of whiteness, which it received yesterday, while we 
were getting rain. 

The Matterhorn is exceedingly difficult of ascent. 
Over yonder, close under the walls of that little 
Catholic church repose the remains of two English- 
men who lost their lives up on that slippery peak, on 
the fourteenth day of July, 1865. They belonged to 
a party of seven — four tourists and three guides. 
They succeeded in gaining the summit, and proudly 
stood there, the first human beings who had ever 
looked down from that solitude. On the descent, 
as they were creeping along, fastened to the same 
rope, one of them lost his footing, not far from the 
top, and, with three others, was precipitated, down 
the almost perpendicular face of the mountain, four 
thousand feet. The breaking of the rope saved the 
lives of one tourist and two guides. 

Since then the way has been made less difficult, by 
blasting the rock at the most dangerous points and by 
attaching ropes and iron rods. And yet lives are lost 
almost every summer, in scaling that throne of perpet- 
ual winter. Would you like to attempt the ascent ? If 
you have a clear head, steady nerves, a strong heart, 
sound lungs, tough muscles and an iron will, you 
may. If you lack any one of these, to undertake to 
climb the Matterhorn would be certain death. If you 
go, you must secure two or three trusty and experi- 
enced guides ; you must expect to be gone two days, 
at least ; and, even in the midst of summer, you must 
take the risk of encountering storms of wind and 
snow and ice,' such as you never dreamed of down 
here where the Creator intended you to live. If you 
were as determined to srain heaven as some men have 



82 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

been to reach the summit of that mountain, and would 
dare and endure as much as they, I should know that 
eternal life would be yours. 

Going to heaven is much like going to the top of 
the Matterhorn. In both cases you must climb ; in 
both cases, you must have a guide ; in both cases, you 
must be fastened to your companions in toil and 
danger. The guide is Jesus Christ, who, cen- 
turies ago, went up and blasted the rocks, and hewed 
out a path, and fastened cables and rods, and stained 
the snow with his blood. He has come down, and 
offers his services to lead you to the very summit of 
glory and immortality. Some men try to climb to 
heaven without the Guide. They all perish in the 
attempt ; for Jesus says : " I am the way and the 
truth, and the life : no man cometh unto the Father, 
but by me." When men scale the Matterhorn, they 
go in companies, all fastened to one stout rope, so 
that, if one falls, the others can hold him up. Chris- 
tians climbing toward heaven must be fastened 
together with the rope of common church-member- 
ship, so that the strength of all is the strength of 
every one. 

" Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love." 

Some men try to scale heaven alone, without the 
help of the Church. They may succeed ; but where 
one gains the summit, a hundred fall and perish by 
the way. We all need the rope, the Church. We all 
must have Christ, the Guide. There is one striking 
point of dissimilarity between climbing that Alpine 
peak and climbing the mountain of holiness and 
heaven. In a majority of cases, to attempt the 
former is certain death ; resolutely to attempt the 
latter means eternal life. 



OUT OF SWITZERLAND INTO ITALY. 83 

Sunday evening, after dinner, at about six o'clock, 
I was in my room, in the fourth story of the hotel, 
when I heard some one running up stairs. He 
bounded up from floor to floor and from landing to 
landing, as a chamois would bound over the rocks, 
pursued by an Alpine hunter. As soon as his feet 
struck the last step, he yelled out in the most excited 
manner : " Come, quick ! quick ! quick ! the Alpine 
glow ! the Alpine glow ! " It was my room-mate. I 
knew what he meant. I was out of the room in a 
flash ; and down the stairs, and out in the open space 
in front of the house, in four flashes more. There 
was the Alpine glow, indeed, of which I had heard so 
much and never could comprehend. How shall I 
describe it ? The sun was out of sight behind the 
western mountains, but was shining on the snow-clad 
eastern peaks. The snow was no longer white. 
What its color was I cannot tell. It was not golden ; 
it was too red for that. It was not red ; it was too 
golden. It was a sort of mixture of the colors of 
the ruby, and the sunrise, and amber, and gold, and 
fire. It was a color which I never saw before — a 
color which no artist ever spread on his canvas, or 
mixed on his palette It was simply glorious. The 
artist w r ho could paint an accurate picture of those 
mountains, as they then looked, would outrank Rubens 
and Murillo and Raphael. 

The sensation produced on my mind was strange 
and unearthly. I thought of the time when Elisha 
was in Dothan, and the army of Syria came to 
arrest him, and God opened the eyes of the 
frightened servant of the prophet, and " he saw, 
and behold the mountain was full of horses and 
chariots of fire round about Elisha." It seemed 



84 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

to me that all the flaming cavalry of the army of 
heaven had encamped on those Alpine peaks. Then 
I thought : No, that is not it. That is not the army 
of heaven up there ; it is heaven itself. All heaven 
has come down. God's throne is there ; and all the 
angels and all the redeemed and glorified spirits of 
earth. 

Of all visible things nothing ever made the 
heavenly world so real, and brought it so near to me, 
as that Alpine glow. In a few minutes it had faded 
away. But its impression will abide forever in my 
mind. The one great lesson which the Alpine glow 
had for me was : " Look up ! " In the valley we 
could not see the sun. It was evening. The shades 
of night were creeping over the ground. The gloom 
was thickening fast. But on the eastern mountain 
tops was a brightness greater than that of morn and 
noon. If we looked down, it was night. If we looked 
up, it was glorious day. So it is ail through this 
world. If we look down, we see shadows, darkness, 
night. If we look down we see sorrow, discourage- 
ment, death. If we continually look down we shall 
sink into blank despair. But if we look up, the light 
of heaven, reflected from the mountain peaks of 
eternity, shines into our faces, and into our hearts. 
To every discouraged one, to every sorrowful one, 
to every sinful one I say : " Look up ! look up ! 
Yonder is the Alpine glow of eternal hope, and joy, 
and salvation." 

Monday morning, July 14, we left Zermatt, at seven 
o'clock. Our objective point was Milan in Italy. 
Before us was a journey of one hundred and fifty- 
seven miles. First, we had to retrace our course 
northward, twenty- four miles, to Visp. In doing 



OUT OF SWITZERLAND INTO ITALY. 85 

this we rode, in carriages, in the bright sun-light, 
under a perfectly cloudless sky, twelve miles to St. 
Nicholas. Then, with the exception of two or three 
ladies, we walked, six miles to Stalden. If you ask 
how the two or three ladies, who did not walk, got 
over the road, I answer : on the backs of mules. 
Coming and going, we saw scores of these animals, 
moving along the narrow, stony path, under huge 
burdens of trunks and boxes and bundles, or saddle- 
loads of living freight, the drivers trudging at their 
sides and continually urging them on with words and 
blows. This is the only way by which baggage and 
food, for tens of thousands of travelers, can reach 
the great hotels of Zermatt. Soon there will be a 
rail-road (we saw an army of Italians pushing it to 
completion) and the poor people are bitterly mourn- 
ing because their mules will be useless, and their 
chief means of support will be cut off. 

While we are taking our six miles' walk I shall 
have a good opportunity to tell you something about 
Switzerland and the people who live among the Alps. 
Switzerland is a federate republic much like our own, 
made of twenty-five states or cantons. Its law- 
making power is a Congress of two houses. The 
executive power is in the hands of a Council of seven, 
elected, for three years, by Congress. The president 
of the Council, elected from and by the Council for 
one year, is the President of the Republic. Four 
languages are spoken in Switzerland. Nearly three- 
fourths of the people speak German ; a little less 
than one fourth, French ; about one hundred and 
fifty thousand out of nearly three millions, Italian ; 
and only thirty-eight thousand, Roumansch. Fifty - 
nine per cent, of the inhabitants are Protestants ; and 



86 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

forty-one per cent. Catholics. The capital of Switzer- 
land is Berne. Its flag is a white Greek Cross in the 
center of a red field. The inhabitants of the moun- 
tainous portions of Switzerland are, for the most 
part, very poor. For a living they depend on their 
cows, and goats, and bees, and what little they can 
produce in the line of grain and vegetables. Wher- 
ever there is a patch of soil which can possibly be 
tilled, you see a cottage, in midst of grass, or grain, 
or garden-plants. You see houses hanging on the 
steep mountain slopes, in the most inaccessible places, 
and you wonder how any creature without wings 
could ever get up or down. 

Alpine houses are of three kinds. Some are like 
our log houses, only they are built of squared timber. 
Some are built of a strong framework covered with 
planks. Some have a framework of wood, filled 
in with brick or stone. Frequently you will see a 
one-storied house, such as I have just described, 
standing on an under story of rough stones. The 
roofs are almost always covered with flat stones, of 
all sizes and shapes, piled on in many overlapping 
layers. Usually the cows sleep under the same roof 
as their owners ; and, almost invariably, a large pile 
of manure lies immediately in front of the house. A 
common sight is a little barn, standing on the top of 
four posts, about six feet from the ground. You 
would laugh to see those people getting in hay. A 
man lies down on his face, with a wooden framework 
strapped to his shoulders. The women cover him all 
over with the fragrant fodder. Then they help him 
up ; and you see a huge hay-cock walk to the barn, 
climb the stairs and disappear through the door. 
Peasant life among the Alps is one long, desperate 



OUT OF SWITZERLAhD INTO ITALY. 87 

struggle for existence. You ought to thank (loci 
that you were born under better skies. 

From Stalden we rode by rail to Visp. At Visp 
we changed cars and rode eastward five miles, up the 
Rhone valley, to Brieg. Brieg is a little town. The 
only thing which gives it prominence is the fact that it 
is the northern terminus of the famous " Simplon 
Road," which runs southeast, one hundred and 
twenty-eight miles, to Milan, and ends at a triumphal 
arch of white marble, built as a fitting goal and mon- 
ument of so grand a work of engineering skill. 

We reached Brieg at half-past two. Very soon 
after I started, with four others of our party, and 
three strangers, in a coach drawn by five horses, to 
ascend the road. The others came on after us 
in similar conveyances. We had an exceedingly 
enjoyable ride. I wish I could paint it, and the 
scenery, in words. The road, already referred to, 
was constructed by order of the great Napoleon, in 
1800 to 1806, to connect Italy with Switzerland and 
France. The ascent from Brieg to the summit of the 
pass is 4,345 feet, or an average of 290 feet to the 
mile. It winds around the mountains and along 
their almost perpendicular sides, ever up, up, up, 
along the verge of frightful precipices, across more 
than six hundred bridges of solid masonry, through 
many tunnels piercing the everlasting rock, past ten 
houses of refuge for sick and weary travelers, always 
in sight of snow-clad peaks, and, at the top of the 
pass, above the limit of perpetual snow. 

The road, through its entire length, is thirty feet 
wide — wide enough for two teams to pass on the run 
— and as smooth and hard as the best city pavement, 
except possibly, some asphalt streets. It also has, 



88 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

on the precipice side, nearly all the way, a massive 
stone parapet, to keep carriages from running off, 
and, where that is wanting, large stone posts, six or 
eight feet apart. As we wound around the moun- 
tains, we could see the valley, far below ; the sum- 
mits, thousands of feet below ; the glaciers, shining 
in the sun ; scores of foaming cataracts, leaping and 
tumbling in white robes, or veils, down the rocks; 
and, over all, as perfect a dome of blue as was ever 
seen. It was a scene never to be forgotten and 
never to be adequately described. In one place we 
went through a long tunnel, or gallery, over which 
plunged a large cataract. Above our heads we could 
hear it pounding the rock, and, through a broad arch 
in the tunnel's rocky side, we could see the sun-light 
piercing the foaning waters with thousands of arrows 
painted in the rainbow's sevenfold glory. 

Fifteen miles of such travel brought us to the top 
of the pass. There we paused in front of the 
Hospice. It is a large building with a lofty flight 
of steps, founded by Napoleon for the gratuitous 
entertainment of travelers, kept by a community 
of monks. As we sat in the carriage, we had the 
pleasure of seeing many of the benevolent monks ; 
also a dozen or more of their noble St. Bernard dogs, 
employed in the winter to seek out and rescue freez- 
ing travelers lost in the snow. 

A further ride of six miles, with an average down- 
ward grade of 289 feet to the mile, brought us to the 
Hotel Fletschhorn, in the little village of Simplon, 
where, in winter, they have eight months of continuous 
snow. Though it was the middle of summer, the night 
was very cold. But we found a good fire of wood, in an 
old-fashioned fire-place ; a hot supper; and a soft 
warm bed ; and were content. 



OUT OF SWITZERLAND INTO ITALY. 89 

Tuesday morning, at an early hour, we left Simplon. 
Two wagons bore the whole party. Both wagons 
and horses were decidedly superannuated. But they 
answered our purpose. The horses had nothing to 
do but to steer the vehicle. The driver had nothing 
to do but direct and hold up the horses with the reins, 
and manage the brake. The descent was steep, the 
road very winding and the rate of motion exceedingly 
swift, [t was terrific, as we swept around the curves 
and along the brink of deep ravines ; but I suppose 
there was no danger. For two or three miles we 
rode through a narrow pass, where there was just 
room for the road and a rapid river, with the moun- 
tain rising straight up for fifteen hundred feet or 
more. The scenery was bold, wild, startling. 

Nine miles of rapid riding, and a descent of 2,245 
feet, brought us to the Italian boundry line, marked 
by a large stone pillar. We were in sunny Italy and 
were glad ; but would have been better pleased, if it 
had been a little less sunny. Ten miles more, through 
dust and heat, and we were at the pretty little city of 
Domodossola. At half-past two we took the train 
for Milan, eighty-seven miles distant. 

The country through which our route lay is fertile 
and well cultivated, but not so beautiful as the fields 
of France. Everywhere the farmers were haying. 
All the grass is cut by hand. We did not see one 
mowing machine. We saw great numbers of oxen — 
most of them white — drawing the hay to the barns. 
The weather was very hot ; and we were glad when 
we reached Milan, at nine o'clock. We drove directly 
to the " Hotel Biscione and P3ellevue." On the way 
we passed along some of the best streets and got a 
flying view of the famous cathedral. 



90 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Do you remember the text of this discourse ? I 
could not blame you, if you have forgotten every 
word. Here it is : "And an highway shall be there, 
and a way, and it shall be called the way of holiness ; 
the unclean shall not pass over it ; but it shall be for 
those : the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not 
err therein." It seems to me that the " Simplon 
Road," on which I have been taking you, represents 
the way of holiness, the road to heaven, mentioned 
in the text. The Simplon Road was constructed by 
a great conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, for his 
soldiers to march on. The highway of holiness was 
built by that mighty Conqueror, who vanquished sin, 
death and hell, Jesus Christ, for the soldiers of the 
cross to march on to eternal victory and fadeless 
renown. The Simplon Road is so thoroughly built 
that it is likely to last many centuries to come. The 
road to Heaven was built for the ages, and will be 
open, in perfect condition, till the last traveler has 
gained his everlasting home. The Simplon Road is 
so smooth and even and perfect there is no possibility 
of losing it, or mistaking some other route for this. 
The way of gospel salvation is so plain that a fool — 
a man with half a mind — can find it and safely reach 
its end. The Simplon Road leads from cold, rugged 
Switzerland, to beautiful, fertile, sunny Italy. The 
way of holiness leads from this cold, barren, unfriendly 
world to the summer land of eternal sunshine and 
joy. The Simplon Road begins at the little village 
of Brieg, and ends in a triumphal arch in the mag- 
nificent city of Milan. The way of holiness begins 
at repentance and faith and ends under the arch of 
immortal glory in the jasper-walled, golden-paved 
city of God. The Simplon Road runs through 



OUT OF SWITZERLAND INTO ITALY. 91 

the finest scenery, and affords constant pleasure to 
the surprised and delighted tourist. The way to 
Heaven is a delightful route. The only really happy 
people in the world are those who travel through the 
delightful scenery which lines its every mile and rod. 
Everything about the Simplon Road was designed 
for safety the perfect road-bed, the parapet, the 
bridges, the tunnels, the refuges, the Hospice, the 
monks, the dogs. The road to Heaven is safety 
itself. Millions of angels fly back and forth along 
its entire length to protect those who walk therein. 
All things work together for their good. So long as 
they keep in the way they are as safe as though they 
were already in Heaven. 

Come friends, let us all set out for Heaven. This 
Christian way is the only road out of sin, and temp- 
tation and sorrow and death into purity and freedom 
and joy and eternal life. If you do not travel this 
way, you will by and by lie down in unending sorrow, 
shame and remorse 

I have tried to make you know how we went out 
of Switzerland into Italy. I hope you will always 
remember the Simplon Road. I hope that whenever 
you think of the Simplon Road, you will also think 
of that other highway, the way of holiness, which 
leads to Heaven and unending joy. 



92 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 



VI. 

MILAN. 

" The situation of this city is pleasant." — II Kings ii, 19. 

These words were spoken of Jericho, the City of 
Palm Trees, more than twenty-seven hundred years 
ago. They are true to-day of the city of Milan in 
Italy. 

Milan — called Milano in the musical language of 
the Italians — is the chief city of the province of 
Lombardy. It lies in the center of the great fertile 
plain of the river Po, between the Alps and the 
Apennines on the north and south respectively, and 
the Adriatic and Ligurian seas on the east and west. 
The mountains are in plain sight from the city, which 
sits like a diamond in the midst of a massive emerald, 
surrounded with a border of sparkling amethysts. 
Surely "the situation of this city is pleasant." 

Milan is built in a circle, its largest church, the 
Cathedral, being the central point. The city is sur- 
rounded by a wall seven miles in circumference ; and 
immediately outside the wall a fine, broad thorough- 
fare makes the circuit of the town. Piercing the 
wall are twelve gates, the most striking being the 
Porta Simpione, on the north-west, where the great 
Simplon Road comes in, here commemorated by a 
magnificent triumphal arch, finished fifty-four years 
ago. 



MILAN. 93 

The streets of Milan are, for the most part, broad 
and very clean. It has many magnificent buildings. 
It carries on extensive commerce through a system 
of canals which connect it with the river Adda on 
the east, the Po on the south, the Ticino on the west, 
and with the lakes Maggiore and Como on the north. 
It is celebrated for its extensive manufactories of 
silk: and woolen goods, and gold and silver ware ; 
also for its large trade in books, pictures and music. 
Its population is about three hundred and twenty- 
five thousand. 

Milan has had a very checkered history. Two 
hundred and twenty-two years before Christ it was 
seized by the Romans. Since then it has been held 
by Goths, Romans, Goths, Lombards, Franks, Ger- 
mans, Spaniards, Austrians, French and Austrians. 
It has been a foot-ball, kicked about by the despots 
of Europe for centuries, with brief periods of peace 
and independence. In the year 1162 it was utterly 
destroyed by Frederick Barbarossa, Emperor of 
Germany. It was, however, speedily rebuilt ; and is 
now a splendid modern city, with a few old buildings, 
growing and prospering and rejoicing under the 
government of free and united Italy. 

As you were told last Sunday evening, we arrived 
at Milan Tuesday, July 15, at nine o'clock in the 
evening, and went directly to the " Hotel Biscione 
and Bellevue." After supper, comrade and I went 
out, a few rods from the hotel, and viewed the Cathe- 
dral by moon-light and star-light. We walked 
around it, and looked up at its statue-crowned pin- 
nacles, and ascended its platform of seven marble 
steps, and felt of its massive doors, and passed our 
hands over the Scripture scenes which adorn the 



94 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 

lower part of its sculptured front, and thanked God 
that we had lived to see that miracle in stone, and 
almost wondered if it was not a dream that we were 
there. 

Wednesday morning, when we looked out of our 
window, the first object which caught our eye was the 
Cathedral tower rising above the roofs of the inter- 
vening buildings. After breakfast we walked to the 
Cathedral square and took the horse-cars to the 
Church of Santa Maria della Grazie. We walked 
through the church and saw some very interesting 
frescoes. But our minds were on something better 
than all that. Adjoining the church is a convent 
bearing the same name. A fee of twenty cents a 
head purchased admission into the convent refectory, 
or dining-room. There, painted on the plastered 
wall, we saw what remains of Leonardo Da Vinci's 
greatest picture, the " Last Supper." The Cyclo- 
pedia Britannica calls it " the third most celebrated 
picture of the world." It was painted for the monks, 
to adorn the room where they took their meals, 
nearly four hundred years ago. It has suffered such 
shameful treatment that it has been almost ruined. 
First it was badly disfigured with smoke from the 
adjoining kitchen. Then a door was cut through it. 
and the wall. Subsequently it was covered over 
with a thick coat of whitewash. Lastly it suffered 
all sorts of ill-usage from the convent being used as 
a barrack for cavalry. The whitewash and smoke 
have been removed so far as possible. The picture 
is but poorly preserved, but retains enough of its 
original perfection to command the admiration of 
the world. 

The man who had charge of the room told us that 



MILAN. 95 

the painting is 8.7 meters long and 4.8 high, which 
would be about 34 by 18 feet. It has become the 
typical representation of the sacrament of Christ's 
Supper for the whole Christian world. I doubt not 
that every person in this congregation has seen a 
copy. The moment selected by the artist is just 
after the utterance of the words : " Verily, verily, I 
say unto you, that one of you shall betray me." 
The picture expresses the effect of the Saviour's sad 
statement on the different auditors. Next to Christ, 
on his right, is John. He has just been addressed 
by Peter, who makes signs to him that he should ask 
of whom the Lord spoke. John raises himself up to 
reply, with an expression of mingled sadness, sweet- 
ness and gentleness on his face. Peter, leaning from 
behind, is all fire and energy. Judas, next to Peter 
and John, looks dark and hateful. With his right 
hand he clutches a bag of money. Knowing full 
well of whom Jesus spoke, he starts back amazed, 
overturning the salt. Andrew, with his long gray 
beard, lifts up his hands, expressing the wonder of a 
simple-hearted old man. James the Less, behind 
Andrew, reaches over and lays his hand on the 
shoulder of Peter, while his face exclaims : " Can it 
be possible ? Have we heard aright ? " Bartholo- 
mew, at the end of the table, has risen from his seat. 
He leans forward with parted lips and a look of 
eager attention. He is impatient to hear more. On 
the left of our Saviour is James the Greater. His 
arms are outstretched, and he shrinks back, as 
though he would repel the thought. Thomas is 
behind James. He holds up his right hand threat- 
eningly as much as to say : " If there be such a 
wretch among us let him look out for himself." 



9G THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Philip, young and handsome, lays his hand on his 
heart, as if to protest his innocence and love and 
truth. Matthew is next. He has more elegance 
than the rest, as though he belonged to a more 
educated class. He turns to Jude and points to our 
Saviour as if he would say : " Do you hear what he 
says?" Simon and Jude, old men, sit together at 
the end of the table. Jude expresses consternation ; 
Simon, with both hands outstretched, a painful 
anxiety. 

Of course the center of attraction in this picture is 
Jesus. As you look in his face you see intellectual 
elevation, dignity, purity, and God-like majesty, suf- 
fused with the most profound sorrow. There is this 
difference between the Master's countenance and the 
countenances of his disciples. The former expresses 
sadness and yearning love ; the latter, surprise and 
indignation. The former shows calmness and repose; 
the latter, the greatest agitation : The former is 
divine ; the latter are nothing but the faces of good 
men. Between the best mere man who ever lived 
and our divine Christ, there is a difference almost 
infinite. The head of Christ, in that picture, is bet- 
ter preserved than any of the others, as though it 
had been miraculously saved from the sacrilegious 
destruction of twelve generations. 

That famous old painting, which admiring thou- 
sands visit every month, represents the institution of 
the chief ceremony of the Christian religion. That 
ceremony is called by various names — the Lord's 
Supper, the Eucharist, the Holy Communion and the 
Mass. Different theories are held concerning its 
nature and meaning. Some say that the bread and 
wine, after having been duly consecrated by the 



MILAN. 97 

officiating minister, are the actual flesh and blood of 
Christ. That is called transubstantiation. Others 
hold that Christ is really and truly present in the 
consecrated elements, although they are, as before, 
nothing but bread and wine. That is called consub- 
stantiation. Others still affirm that the Lord's Sup- 
per is nothing but an act of commemoration, a visi- 
ble sign of the body and blood of Christ. All 
Christians, however, except the Quakers, agree in 
this : the Lord's Supper is a sacrament ; it was insti- 
tuted by divine authority ; it is binding on all 
believers ; every person who comes to the Lord's 
table in the right condition of mind and heart meets 
his Saviour and receives a peculiar spiritual benefit. 

My friend, if you have never been to the table of 
your adorable Redeemer, you do not know how 
many and how great blessings you have missed. My 
most earnest and sincere advice to you is to get into 
such a spiritual condition, by the help of God, that 
it will be right for you to come to the Holy Com- 
munion, and then come whenever you have the 
opportunity. 

Do you see that dark, Satanic face at the table, 
three places from the Saviour's right hand ? Has the 
presence of Judas at the Lord's table any meaning 
for you ? It has for me. It means that 1 should 
not stay away from the Lord's table, or refuse to 
become a Christian, because there are hypocrites and 
bad men in the Church. One in twelve of Christ's 
apostles was a villain of the blackest dye. What 
wonder then that there are unworthy men among the 
professed followers of Jesus to-day. Their badness 
does not justify you in refusing to do good. Their 
treason against the divine Master does not excuse 



98 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

your disloyalty to him. Peter and John did not 
leave the table because Judas was there. I will not 
leave the Church because there may be Judases 
among its members. Whenever I am invited to the 
Holy Communion, I will go though I have to 
kneel at the very side of the Devil himself. 

Leonardo da Vinci, the painter of that sublime 
picture, was one of the greatest men who ever lived. 
Of all mankind he seems to have the best right to 
be called a universal genius. He was the most 
accomplished painter of his generation, and one of 
the most accomplished of the world. He was a dis- 
tinguished sculptor, architect, musician and writer. 
He was a great mechanician, engineer, anatomist, 
botanist, astronomer, chemist, geologist, geographer 
and explorer. It is the fashion in these days to say 
that it makes no difference who a man's father is, if 
he only has the right kind of a mother ; that great 
men never transmit their greatness to their children ; 
that great men always have great mothers. It may 
therefore be interesting to know that da Vinci's 
father was an accomplished lawyer, while his mother 
was from the ignorant, degraded, peasant class. 

A very interesting story is told of the origin of 
da Vinci's most famous painting. In some way he 
had incurred the hatred of a powerful and wicked 
priest, who procured his arrest and condemnation to 
death. He was however promised life and liberty on 
condition that he would paint a satisfactory picture 
of the Last Supper on the wall of the refectory of 
the monastery where he was confined, within a 
certain time. He began the task, working for his 
life. The painting progressed. But could he finish 
it before the day, appointed for his execution in case 



MILAN. !)!) 

of failure ? The hateful old priest would come in 
every day and tauntingly tell him th'at he could not ; 
that he must die. The night before the fatal day 
arrived. The picture was completed except the 
head of Christ and that of Judas. These the artist 
had attempted, again and again, but could not 
execute to his satisfaction. It was night. To-morrow 
morning he must die, unless he should receive help 
from Heaven. So he prayed long and earnestly. While 
at prayer he had a vision. Christ appeared to him, 
and he saw the Saviour's face. He arose and painted 
it, without difficulty, and to his entire satisfaction. 
Then he thought that nothing would be so suitable 
for the traitor Judas as the face of his enemy, the 
malignant priest. So he painted that, and his 
work was done. In the morning the picture was pro- 
nounced perfect, and the artist's life was spared. 

So that picture teaches a lesson about prayer. It 
teaches us that God hears and answers prayer, as the 
Bible declares, and that we may pray for temporal as 
well as spiritual blessings. Prayer is the mightiest 
agency in the universe. It moves the Almighty 
hand that moves the world. It has not lost one 
ounce of its power since the first man offered the 
first petition. God was just as able and willing to 
answer prayer in Da Vinci's time as in Elijah's. He 
is just as able and willing to answer prayer in our 
time as in Da Vinci's. If there is anything which 
you think you need, either spiritual or temporal, 
ask God for it, with a firm faith in his goodness and 
power, and he will give you the very thing for which 
you ask, or something else, which his infinite wisdom 
sees will be better for you. Every day God answers 
prayer for temporal blessings. 



100 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 

There were three or four copies of the Last Supper 
in the room with the original. One was but just 
commenced. Another, less than half the size of the 
original, was offered us for the snug little sum of two 
thousand dollars. 

From the Convent of Santa Maria della Grazie we 
went to the far-famed Cathedral. In attempting to 
describe it to you, I have on my hands a most diffi- 
cult task. How can I describe the indescribable ! 
How can I, with my poor gift of speech, do what has 
taxed the powers of the most gifted word-painters in 
the world ! Since childhood I had longed to seethe 
Cathedral of Milan. I wanted to see it more than 
any other building under the skies. My expectations 
had been raised very high. Would I be disappointed ? 
I had read many glowing descriptions. Would I find 
the reality less glorious? I want to tell you, most 
emphatically, that I was not disappointed. When I 
came to see that magnificent temple with my own 
eyes, I found that the half had not been told. 

With two exceptions it is the largest church in the 
world. St. Peter's at Rome is the largest ; and the 
Cathedral of Saville, in Spain, stands second in size- 
The Milan Cathedral was one hundred and thirty- 
four years in building It was completed, or nearly 
so, three hundred and ninety years ago. Under 
Napoleon Bonaparte much additional work was per- 
formed upon it ; and further decorations and repairs 
are constantly going on. In shape, its ground plan 
is a Latin cross. Its length is 480 feet ; and its width, 
183. The tower, which rises from the junction of 
the arms of the cross, is 354 feet high. It covers as 
much ground as • eighteen churches like this, put 
together. Looking at its exterior, you see nothing 



MILAN. 101 

but white marble of the purest variety. It is a moun- 
tain of marble, carved into forms of the most exquisite 
beauty and grace. The roof is a forest of Gothic 
turrets, ninety-eight in number, each adorned with 
the most elaborate carvings, and with the most beau- 
tiful statues. The entire exterior is a vast assem- 
blage of human forms in snow-white stone. Think of 
it ! thirty-five hundred statues — that is the count — 
on the outside walls and roof of the church ! 
Wherever there is any place to put a statue, there a 
statue is to be found. Every one of the side windows 
has eight large statues, on brackets, on the outside 
casing. 

The whole structure is so cut with the artist's chisel 
that it looks more like frost-work than stone. Daz- 
zling white in the noonday sun, and yet more beauti- 
ful in the silver light of the summer moon, it is a 
marvel of workmanship. The Milanese, with pardon- 
able pride, regard it as the eighth wonder of the 
world. It is a piece of jeweler's work magnified a 
million times. It perfectly astonishes and bewilders 
the beholder, from the moment his eye rests upon it 
until he climbs to the highest attainable balcony of the 
tower, upon the summit of which stands the figure of 
Christ commanding the marvelous work to God. 

The ascent to the roof is made by a broad, white 
marble staircase of 158 steps. We went up and walked 
about amid a forest of statues and an endless variety 
of pinnacles, flying-buttresses, carvings and tracery. 
From the marble roof, we went up the tower, and 
looked down upon the mighty fabric, and asked our- 
selves : " Are we in the world, or have we been trans- 
ported to fairy land?" We went through the interior. 
The floor is a stone pavement of mosaic in marble of 



103 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

different colors. The ceiling is stone, supported by 
fifty-two stone columns,and is so delicately carved that, . 
as you gaze up at it, it looks like the finest and richest 
lace. As you walk up and down the aisles, elegantly 
adorned chapels open on either side. The transepts 
are full of statues. In all, the interior contains 70c 
statues. One of the most striking is St. Bartholomew 
the flayed martyr, with his skin thrown over his 
shoulder, the very marble seeming to quiver with the 
fidelity of the artist's chiseling. 

We went down under the floor into a crypt of 
octagonal shape, about twenty-five feet in diameter. 
The walls of the room are solid silver, except the 
panels, which are tapestry of the most expensive kind. 
It is the tomb of St. Charles Borromeo, a Roman 
cardinal and Archbishop of Milan, who died in 1584, 
and was written among the saints in 16 10. The 
attendant opened a silver casket, embossed with gold 
and precious stones, and showed us, through glass, 
the embalmed body of the archbishop, dressed in a 
robe of silver and gold, holding a jeweled staff. All 
we could see of the body itself was the head. 

What kind of a man was this Bishop Borromeo 
whose memory is honored with such a splendid tomb? 
He was a man of great piety, virtue and benevolence. 
He lived for the good of those over whom he had 
been appointed a spiritual shepherd. Though occu- 
pying a position almost as high as the proudest 
monarch, he was not ashamed to go about doing 
good. In the year 1576 the city and diocese of 
Milan were visited by the plague, and tens of thou- 
sands died. The good Bishop went about giving 
directions for the care of the sick and burying the 
dead, shunning no danger and sparing no expense. 



Mr LAN. 103 

He also visited all the parishes where the contagion 
raged, distributing money, providing accommoda- 
tions for the sick and reproving those priests who 
were cowardly and remiss in their duty. Worn out 
with these exhausting labors, he died at the early age 
of 46. The love and gratitude of his people built 
for him this costly and magnificent tomb. It was 
richly deserved. 

You cannot expect such a burial ; but, better than 
that, you may so live that, when you die, your mem- 
ory will be enshrined in the grateful, loving hearts of 
multitudes whom your good deeds have blessed and 
saved. A thousand times better than a silver coffin, 
in a marble mausoleum, is one soul which we have 
helped to win to Christ and everlasting life. 

From the Cathedral, or Duomo, as the Italians call 
it, we went to the "Palace of Science and Art." 
There we saw an immense collection of paintings and 
statuary. Among the latter the chief attraction, to 
us, was a marble representation of Napoleon, in the 
costume of a Roman emperor, by Canova. 

Among the works on canvas, we saw, with admira- 
tion, a large number of fine paintings by Luini. But 
the chief of the paintings were Rubens' Last Supper 
and Raphael's Sposalizio. Before the latter of these 
I wish to detain you for a few minutes. It is one of 
Raphael's best works. It is called the "Sposalizio." 
That word means marriage. It is the marriage of the 
Virgin Mary. It is not a very large picture ; but it is 
exceedingly vivid in its conception and rich in color- 
ing, and every stroke of the brush shows the hand of 
a consummate master. The place of the marriage is 
one of the temple courts at Jerusalem. In the back- 
ground is the central portion of the house of God — a 



104 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

fourteen-sided, two-storied, dome-roofed building. In 
the fore-ground is the bridal party. In the center, 
facing you, is the high- priest in gorgeous robes. At 
his right is the bride ; at his left, the groom. Joseph 
is in the act of putting the marriage ring on Mary's 
finger. The hand which she extends to receive the 
golden circle is the right, and not, as with us, the left. 
The bride hooks young, modest and beautiful. At her 
right and a little advanced stands a beautiful matron, 
her mother. Just behind are four younger ladies. 
The groom is a noble, dignified man, considerably 
older than the bride. In his left hand he carries a 
slender wand, or cane. At his left are five young 
men, richly dressed. They are Mary's rejected 
suitors. Each carries a stick, like the one in Joseph's 
hand. The suitor in front is breaking his wand across 
his knee, in token of indignation or despair. 

What, I asked myself, was the artist's purpose in 
painting this picture ? My conclusion was : to exalt 
and glorify the holy estate of matrimony. Next to 
the Church, marriage is the holiest institution on 
earth. It was " instituted of God in the time of man's 
innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union 
which is between Christ and his Church." It is one 
of God's best gifts to the human race. It is a bless- 
ing to man. It is an equal blessing to woman. 
Without it this world would be a sink of pollution, too 
loathsome to be named. There are many ways in 
which marriage is dishonored in these days. First, a 
set of so-called reformers are doing all they can to 
talk down and write down marriage. Not long ago 
they brought about, in the newspapers and magazines, 
a discussion of the question, " Is marriage a failure?" 
Some of them declare that marriage is a failure; that 



MILAN. 105 

it is a curse and a slavery to woman; and that it ought 
to be abolished by law. This sowing is springing up 
in a harvest of evil all over the land. Marriage is 
dishonored by the prevalent instruction, given to 
girls and young ladies, that a life of independence in 
business, or a profession, is far nobler than marriage 
and the presidency of a home. 

Marriage is dishonored by the easy divorce laws, 
and causeless divorces, which prevail in many of the 
states of this Union. The Bible names only one 
sufficient ground for annulling the marriage contract- 
That man or woman who contracts a second mar- 
riage, so-called, while a former companion is living, 
unless he or she be the innocent party in a divorce 
for adultery, is an adultere r , and cannot enter the 
kingdom of God. Every adulterer dishonors marriage, 
and grossly insults its Author; and, till he repents, 
the red-hot wrath of Almighty God abides upon him. 
We all dishonor marriage when we knowingly tolerate 
adulterers, seducers and fornicators in our churches,- 
admit them into our society and vote for them when 
candidates for any office. 

To dishonor marriage, in any of these ways, is to 
help to abolish marriage. When marriage is abolished, 
this world will be a perfect hell. I think that Raphael 
painted the marriage of the mother of our blessed 
Lord and Saviour to honor marriage. If I could, I 
should like to hang a good copy of Raphael's 
" Sposalizio " in every school-room, and parlor, and 
court-house, and church, and office, and hotel, and 
railway station throughout the land 

Wednesday afternoon my comrade and I spent 
another hour in the Cathedral. I should like to 
spend an hour there every day for the remainder of 



106 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL, 

my life. Most reluctantly we tore ourselves away. 
We had to leave that sublime temple behind us ; but 
we carried away its glorious impress in our hearts. 

Thursday morning we took the cars for Genoa, 
which the natives call Genova. The ride was long — 
104 miles — slow, hot and exhausting. We passed 
through no fewer than twenty tunnels, one of them 
two miles long. The last fifteen miles were almost 
one continuous tunnel. 

We did not see much in Genoa. There was not 
much to see. Near the station stands a noble statue 
of Columbus, who was born only five miles from the 
city, presenting America, in the form of an Indian 
maiden, to the old world. 

Some of the streets of Genoa are exceedingly nar- 
row. I measured one — a chief business street — and 
found it two and one-half times as wide as the length 
of my cane. Another was so narrow that I could lay 
my hands on two opposite buildings at the same time. 

Friday afternoon I began to be very sick with head- 
ache and fever. At about eight o'clock in the evening 
we all walked down to the harbor near by, and were 
rowed a long distance, in two large boats, across the 
bay to the steamer " Marsala." I noticed that all the 
oarsmen, in all the boats I saw, rowed with their faces 
toward the bows. We had a fine view of the city as 
we left it. 

We found the steamer quite a large and well built 
one. But it was dirty, and was crowded with Italian 
steerage passengers of the filthiest description. 
They were human vermin. They swarmed through 
their own quarters and all over the ship. They smelt 
and looked worse than an average American hog. 
We sailed at nine. I was in my berth before that, in 
the same state room with five other men. 



MILAN. 107 

I was sick when I came on board. When we got 
well out to sea, the water was rough and I was 
terribly sea-sick. Every one in our party was sea- 
sick. The water dashed in at the ports so that they 
had to be shut. That made the air very hot and close. 
It seemed to me that I should die. I almost wished 
that I might. The only thing that made life sweet 
was the hope of seeing loved ones far away. At length 
I got some relief. 

At half-past seven the next morning we were at 
Leghorn — called by the Italians Livorno — where we 
lay till late in the day, taking on and putting off 
cargo. Soon after we sailed, the sea-sickness came 
back, and I passed another wretched night. 

Nearly all day Sunday I lay on deck. Late in the 
afternoon the beautiful bay of Naples appeared ; but 
it had little beauty for my sick eyes. The shore 
grew nearer, and ere long old Vesuvius was in sight, 
sending up a cloud of smoke many hundreds of feet 
in height. We passed through swarms of vessels of 
many kinds and reached our anchorage. A boat 
rowed us to the dock, and carriages took us through 
many fine streets to a good hotel. I went to bed at 
once, and lay there that night and all the next day. 

During that Monday while the rest of the com- 
pany were enjoying a visit to Pompeii, I lay on my 
back at the hotel in Naples, trying to say to God — 
yes saying — "Thy will be done." The next morn- 
ing, as gently and easily as possible, I was borne to 
the railway station and given a whole seat in a good 
car. 

After a journey of one hundred and twenty-five 
miles, I was in Rome, as we had come, 766 miles from 
Milan, and 5,600 miles from home. I could have 



108 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

been homesick and utterly discouraged. I was 
desperately sick. It was the bluest time I ever saw- 
It looked as though I should never see a better day. 
Why had I not stayed at home ? How had I dared 
to come into that dreadful climate of Southern Italy, 
in July, against the advice of all the guide books. 

But I had a friend who could help me. I had been 
telegraphing to him by the prayer cable nearly all the 
time for three days. At Rome I received an answer. 
It read: "All things work together for good to them 
that love God." I accepted that message as from 
God to me. I believed it. I rested upon it. It gave 
me peace and comfort. 

In concluding this discourse, I commend these 
words to every one of you. God is the sovereign 
ruler of this world. If you love him, if you have 
given him your heart, every event in your life, every- 
thing that is done to you, everything that happens to 
you, and all your honest blunders are parts of a 
complicated machine, which the Almighty operates 
for your benefit. If you love and trust him, you are 
as safe from all real harm as though you were in 
heaven. Outside the Bible, all books put together 
are not worth one-thousandth part so much as that 
one sentence. "All things work together for good 
to them that love God." 



OLD ROME. 109 



VII. 
OLD ROME. 

" / must also see Rome." — Acts xix, 21. 

Paul was a great traveler. He was a traveling 
preacher. He was traveling and preaching all the 
time. He had visited nearly all the great cities of 
the world. He was very familiar with Jerusalem, 
and Damascus, and Antioch, and Tarsus, and 
Ephesus, and Philippi, and Thessalonica, and 
Corinth and Athens. But the queen of cities, the 
capital of the world, the center of universal domin- 
ion he had never seen. He felt greatly dissatisfied 
on that account. He longed to go and preach the 
gospel on the docks of the Tiber, and in the Forum, 
and before the gates of Gesar's palace. So he said 
to his companions in travel : " I must also see 
Rome." 

I felt much as Paul did. When I first contem- 
plated taking a trip across the sea I said to myself : 
If I go to London and Edinburgh and Paris and 
Milan, "I must also see Rome." . I would rather see 
Rome than any other city, than all other cities put 
together. If I cannot see Rome, my trip will be a 
disappointment and a failure. When old travelers 
and all the guide books said to me : " You must not 
go to Rome in the summer ; if you go, it will be at 
the risk of your life," I answered : " I must also see 
Rome." When we reached Italy, and found how hot 



110 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

it was, and knew that the farther we went to the 
south the hotter it would be, I said : " I must also see 
Rome." When I was taken sick in Genoa, and knew 
not but it was the Italian fever, and the question 
was raised whether I should return to the healthful 
atmosphere of Switzerland, and wait for the com- 
pany there, or press forward into unknown dangers, 
I still said : "I must also see Rome." 

At last I was in Rome, but could not see Rome. 
From Tuesday noon till the next Monday morning I 
could not even look out of my window ; but lay in bed, 
in extreme weakness and severe pain. Friday morning 
the entire party save myself, departed for Florence. 

Monday morning, July 28, I was taken in a 
carriage, hardly able to hold up my head, to the 
railroad station, and thence, by rail, eighteen miles 
and carriage two miles, to Genzano, a village of five 
thousand inhabitants, among the Alban Hills, near 
the ancient site of Alba Longa. I felt the change of 
air and was stronger and better ere I had been in the 
place twenty-four hours. 

After nine days of good nursing, good air, good 
food and good rest, I felt able to resume my travels. 
Then I said : I will not try to follow the party in 
their wanderings through Germany. I will go, as 
straight as I can, to London and wait for my com- 
panions there. But, before I start for London, I 
must also see Rome. At half-past two, Wednesday 
Angust 6, I found myself again in the " Eternal 
City." 

In many respects Rome is the most wonderful city 
of all the world and of all the ages. It is wonder- 
ful in its antiquity, wonderful in the influence it has 
exerted upon the nations of the earth, wonderful in 



OLD ROME. Ill 

its treasures of architecture and art, wonderful in its 
ruins and wonderful in its associations and memories. 
Rome was founded, by a band of robber-shepherds, 
seven hundred and fifty-three years before the birth 
of Christ. It is therefore now 2643 years old. 

The leaders of the men who built Rome were 
twins, named Romulus and Remus. If tradition is to 
be believed, they were cast out to perish, when 
infants, and were brought up by a she-wolf, in place 
of her cubs killed by hunters. Whether that story is 
true or not, the chief emblem of Rome has always 
been, and is to-day, a wolf nursing two little boys. 
Rome began on the Palatine Hill, on the left, or 
eastern, bank of the river Tiber, about fifteen miles 
above its mouth. Thence it spread until it covered 
six other hills and the intervening valleys, and was 
called the "Seven-hilled City." The seven hills of 
Rome are the Palatine, the Aventine, the Capitoline, 
the Esquiline, the Ccelian, the Quirinal and the the 
Viminal. 

From the beginning Rome was engaged in almost 
constant war. She was a savage wolf, rending the 
nations in pieces and devouring their flesh, till she 
grew so large that, when she stretched herself out, 
she covered the whole world then known. Think of 
one city conquering and ruling all other cities, and 
all the nations of earth. That seeming miracle was 
wrought by ancient Rome. Her wars of conquest, 
with two brief intervals of peace, lasted nearly seven 
hundred years. Then, under the Emperor Augustus, 
the temple of Janus was shut and universal peace 
was proclaimed. In the midst of that peace, the 
doors of Heaven swung open on their golden hinges, 
and, while the angels sung : " Glory to God in the 



112 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men," 
the Prince of Peace came down to earth, to establish 
his empire of love in the hearts of men. Soon the 
two empires, Rome and the Church, met in deadly 
combat Rome fought with sword and fagot The 
Church used no sword but the word of God, no fagot 
but the torch of divine truth. The Church was vic- 
torious. In the year 312 Constantine, the first 
Christian emperor, proclaimed Christianity the 
religion of the Roman Empire. 

Ere long the splendor of the imperial city began to 
wane. The seat of government was removed to 
Constantinople. In 395 the empire was permanently 
divided into two parts. In 410 Rome was taken and 
plundered by northern barbarians. In 475 the 
Western Empire fell. Then Rome saw five hundred 
years of invasions, famines, pestilences and civil 
dissensions. 

Meanwhile a new j>ower had risen on the banks of 
the Tiber. In the place of the Emperors were the 
Popes. In place of the civil power was the spiritual 
power. Upon the ruins of the ancient Roman 
Empire there gradually arose a new empire, which soon 
became more powerful than the other, because it 
claimed control over the souls of men as well as 
their bodies, and extended its dominion beyond this 
life into eternity. For long centuries the Popes 
ruled the world ; and temporal sovereigns rose or 
fell according to the will and nod of him whom they 
regarded as the successor of Peter and the vice- 
gerent of the Almighty. In the latter part of the 
fifteenth century many of the nations declared them- 
selves independent of the papal power. Since then 
the influence of the Popes in civil affairs has been 



OLD ROME. 113 

constantly growing less and less. For centuries the 
Head of the Catholic Church was the absolute 
political ruler of the city of Rome and of the sur- 
rounding territory. But, in 1870, Victor Emmanuel 
came with his army and made Rome the capital of 
free and united Italy, and the Pope a private citizen 
under his regal government. 

There are two Romes — the ancient and the modern. 
Ancient Rome lies on the eastern bank of the Tiber, 
and is the most interesting series of ruins on the 
globe. Modern Rome lies on both sides of the 
river, and is slowly creeping over the site of the 
ancient city. Since it became the capital of Victor 
Emmanuel's kingdom, Rome has enjoyed a rapid 
growth and has greatly improved in every respect. 
It is really a clean, beautiful, splendid city ; and it is 
becoming more worthy of its illustrious name, every 
year. Its population is three hundred and forty five 
thousand souls. 

After lunch I started out to see the wonders. The 
first object of special interest which I saw was the 
Column of Marcus Aurelius, rising in the center of a 
square of the same name. Marcus Aurelius was 
emperor from A. D. 161 to 169. He erected this 
column to commemorate his victories over the Mar- 
comanni and other German tribes on the Danube- 
It is ninety-five feet high. A spiral band, ascending 
its cylindrical shaft, is covered with carvings of 
marching armies and fighting warriors. Three hun- 
dred years ago it was repaired by order of Pope 
Sixtus V. and a statue of St. Paul was placed upon 
its top. 

I made a long pause in the Forum of Trajan. 
Here stands Trajan's Column, erected in the year 



114 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

114. It is the most beautiful of all the historical 
columns, and the model for every similar structure. 
It is wholly of white marble, and is one hundred and 
thirty-two feet high. Around it runs a spiral band, 
three feet wide and six hundred feet long, covered 
with admirable bas-relief sculptures presenting a 
continuous history of Trajan's warlike achievements. 
No less than twenty-five hundred human figures are 
delineated, beside horses, fortresses and implements 
of siege. In the interior a staircase of 184 steps 
ascends to the top. Beneath this monument the body 
of Trajan was buried, and on the summit stood his 
statue. Many hundred years ago the image of the 
emperor was taken down, and a bronze statue of St. 
Peter, fifteen feet high, was put in its place. 

As I stood looking, I said to myself : How comes 
it that the form of that high and mighty potentate, 
who reared this column, has disappeared, and the 
statue of an obscure and unlettered Galilean fisher- 
man has taken its place ? What power wrought that 
marvelous change ? What has made Peter, the fisher- 
man, so much greater than Trajan, the emperor ? 
It was not the power of arms, or diplomacy, or 
money. It was the power of truth. It was the 
power of Christ. It was the power of God. God 
was in Christ. Christ was in Peter. Therefore, 
where there is one person who can tell you who 
Trajan was, there are a hundred persons who can 
tell you who Peter was. Trajan was on the losing 
side. Peter was on the winning side. I exhort you 
to get on Peter's side, which is Christ's side ; for the 
time is coming when "at the name of Jesus every 
knee shall bow, of things in heaven, and things in 
earth, and things under the earth, and every tongue 



OLD ROME. 115 

shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory 
of God the Father." 

Passing on from Trajan's Forum and Column, I 
saw the ruins of a temple of the heathen goddess 
Minerva, built, it is probable, nineteen hundred years 
ago. Nothing remains but a portion of the front, in 
white marble, quite well preserved. I saw a door- 
way, and was about to enter, as I supposed, the place 
where once the goddess of wisdom was worshiped. 
But immediately I started back in disgust, with my 
hand at my nose. The place was the dwelling of a 
swarm of filthy Italians. 

When this temple was built, the religion of Minerva 
and Mars and Apollo and Jupiter was universal and, 
seemingly, almighty. It was deeply rooted in the 
superstition of a hundred million worshipers, and was 
upheld by the power of the mightiest empire that 
ever stood on the earth. But there came a band of 
humble missionaries, preaching the new religion of a 
crucified Jew ; and, lo, in a few years, the gods of 
Greece and Rome had gone to keep company with 
bats and owls, and every pagan temple had been 
demolished or transformed into a Christian church. 

Standing in front of that ruined house of her who 
was fabled to have been born from the brain of the 
Father of Gods, I want to tell you that every false 
religion on the face of the earth is destined to give 
place to the only true religion, the religion of Jesus 
Christ. Christ is going to conquer this world. The 
best thing you can do is to surrender to him at once, 
and let him make your heart his spotless temple. 

The next place which I visited was the Pantheon. 
Considering its age, we must pronounce this the best 
preserved building in ancient Rome. It was erected 



116 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

twenty-seven years before ' the birth of Christ, by 
Marcus Agrippa, the prime minister of the Emperor 
Augustus. Its walls are of brick, twenty feet thick, 
and were originally covered with marble. 

Passing through a portico, seventy-two feet wide 
and fifty-four feet deep, supported by sixteen 
Corinthian columns of granite, we find ourselves in a 
circular room, one hundred and forty feet in diameter 
and two hundred and eighty feet high. That is more 
than eight times the height of this audience-room 
and nearly twice its greatest length. The surface of 
the wall is broken by seven large niches and many 
majestic columns. In the niches anciently stood 
statues of the gods of Rome, including Mars, Venus 
and Cassar. The ceiling is dome-shaped, with a 
circular opening in the center, through which all the 
light enters which the room receives. When in it's 
perfection, this was a marvelously grand and beauti- 
ful temple. The walls were covered with marble of 
many colors and of the highest polish. The floor 
was as rich as the walls. The ceiling was covered 
all over with gold. The outer walls were marble. 
The roof was tiled with gilded bronze. 

More than half a century before the crucifixion of 
our Lord, the emperor and senators and generals and 
priests of old Rome dedicated this temple to every 
deity whose name they knew, and called it the 
"Pantheon," which means the house of all the 
gods. These very walls, this very ceiling, have 
re-echoed with the tread of sixty generations march- 
ing into eternity. 

About fourteen hundred years ago the Pantheon 
became a Christian Church. It is now a church and a 
tomb. Here lie the mortal remains of Raphael, and 



OLD ROME. 11? 

Victor Emmanuel, and many less distinguished men. 
Here they may sleep till the resurrection trumpet 
sounds through this vault, and the swarming millions 
of pagan and Christian Rome, with all mankind, 
stand before the great white throne of him who was 
nailed to a Roman cross. When that day comes, you 
will be present, my friend. Will you appear at the 
right hand of the Judge, or at his left? Will he say 
to you "Come thou blessed of my Father," or 
"'depart thou cursed." 

On the eastern slope of the Capitoline Hill I visited 
a little church, built over the old Mamertine Dun- 
geon. The Mamertine Dungeon is very old. It 
probably dates back twenty-five hundred years. It 
is wholly underground. It is partly excavated in the 
solid rock, and partly built of masonry. It consists 
of two chambers, one below the other. A priest, 
with lighted taper, conducted us down a flight of 
stone steps, built in modern times, into a square 
stone chamber, very damp and cold and dismal. 
In the floor is a hole just large enough to admit a 
man's body, covered with an iron grating. That used 
to be the only entrance to the lower room ; and 
through it the miserable prisoners were lowered with 
ropes, never expecting to be drawn out again. We 
went down a modern stairway. The lower room is 
shaped like a half-wheel, of which the straight side 
may be twenty-five feet long.. On one side is a place 
where prisoners used to be strangled. There are two 
small holes in the wall running back into a narrow 
passage dug out in the rock. The victim was made 
to sit on the floor with his head against the wall. A 
rope was placed around his neck, and the ends were 
put through the holes. Then the executioner went 



118 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

around into the passage, drew the rope tight, tied the 
ends together, put a stick into the loop, and twisted 
the noose till the prisoner's face was black and his 
spirit had fled. On the other side begins a narrow 
passage, leading to an immense sewer, into which the 
dead body of the prisoner was thrust, as soon as life 
was extinct. 

This horrible dungeon in which we stand is 
the place to which the historian Sallust refers 
when, in recording the execution of Catiline's 
confederates, he says : " In the prison is a chamber 
named the Tullianum, about twelve feet below the 
surface of the ground. This is surrounded by walls and 
covered by a vaulted stone roof ; but its appearance is 
repulsive and terrible on account of the neglect, 
darkness and smell." It is indeed repulsive and 
horrible. The chill and damp, and thoughts of the 
cruelties practiced here, send icy tremors through the 
visitor's body and soul. Here Jugurtha, king of 
Numidia, after adorning the triumph of Marius, 
perished by starvation. Here Vercingetorix, king of 
the Gauls, met his fate ; and many other noble cap- 
tives, all along the centuries of relentless Roman 
tyranny. 

But it was the memory of a more illustrious pris- 
oner than any of these that brought me to the Mam- 
ertine Dungeon. Here, as we have good evidence for 
believing, Paul was confined just before his martyr- 
dom. The Apostle to the Gentiles suffered two cap- 
tivities at the capital of the world. The first was 
comparatively honorable and pleasant. For two 
whole years he dwelt in his own hired house, chained 
to a soldier who kept watch over him, and received 
visitors, and preached the gospel to multitudes in 



OLD ROME. no 

his rooms and before his door. After being released 
and having traveled and preached several years, 
he was seized again and cast into this noisome 
prison. 

With what emotions thrilling my heart I stood 
within the walls which re-echoed the prayers and 
songs of Christ's greatest minister and where he wrote 
his last letter, to Timothy his spiritual son. Trans- 
port yourself in imagination, back through eighteen 
centuries, to Rome's oldest and most dreadful 
dungeon. The floor is bare and cold. The walls 
are covered with a slimy sweat almost as cold as ice. 
No light or fresh air ever penetrates the place, except 
when, now and then, the guards above remove the 
stone to save the prisoner from absolute suffocation. 
The sun never looked into this infernal pit. It is a 
horrible hole — a place for malaria, and fever, and 
asphyxia, and gloom, and despair, and madness and 
death. As we peer around, by the dim light of a 
sickly lamp, we see an old man sitting on the floor. 
On his knees lies a piece of parchment, which the 
guards have flung down to him and a little horn of 
ink, obtained in some way. He is writing. Slowly 
and painfully he forms the Greek letters, for the light 
is poor, his posture is cramped and his eyes are 
dim. You recognize Paul — the greatest man whom 
God ever gave to the Church or the world. Getting 
down on the floor behind him, and looking over his 
shoulder, you see that what he is writing is addressed 
to Timothy, the first Bishop of Ephesus. Can you 
read what he is writing this moment ? Look sharp, 
and tell us what it is. ''The cloak that I left at 
Troas with Carpus, when thou comest, bring with 
thee, and the books, but especially the parchments." 



120 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Paul expects a visit from Timothy, if he shall live so 
long. The cell is cold and damp. He wants his 
cloak. The hours are long and tedious. He wants 
his books to while away the time. He is soon to be 
tried for his life. The parchments are some docu- 
ments which he needs to establish his innocence of 
the crimes laid to his charge. 

While the priest, my guide, held his light, I took 
from my pocket my little Testament and read aloud 
the fourth chapter of Second Timothy, in the very 
spot where it was written. With special interest I 
dwelt on the words : " I am now ready to be offered, 
and the time of my departure is at hand. I have 
fought a good fight, I have finished my course, 
I have kept the faith : henceforth there is laid up 
for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the 
righteous Judge, shall give me at that day ; and not 
to me only, but unto all them also that love his 
appearing." 

A few days after the writing of those words, one 
morning the jailers uncovered the round hole in the 
ceiling of the cell and shouted down : " You are 
wanted, old. man ! " Then they put ropes under his 
arms ; and roughly hauled him up ; and led him down 
the hill into the Forum, and past the spot where 
Cicero used to thunder against Catiline and Antony, 
and close by the heathen temples— which Paul knew 
would ere long be turned into Christian churches — , 
and under the shadow of the Palatine Hill and Nero's 
"golden house," and along the Ostian Way where 
hundreds of conquerors had marched — but none so 
great as he — and out through the gate, which after- 
wards took his name and bears it to-day. Then they 
led him to one side, out of the crowd which was com- 



OLD ROME. 121 

ing and going, and, while he bent his neck and 
breathed a prayer for the forgiveness of his enemies, 
one of them, with his sword, struck off his head, and 
his liberated spirit flew up into the paradise of 
God. 

That old Mamertine Prison suggested these 
thoughts to me ; and taught me a lesson, which I wish 
to repeat to you. It is the lesson of how to be happy. 
Paul, in spite of all his trials and tribulations, was a 
very happy man. The words, which I read to you a 
few minutes ago, prove that he was happy when 
expecting death, in that horrible dungeon. In one of 
his letters he wrote : " I am exceeding joyful in all 
my tribulations." What made Paul so happy? I 
think every one in this congregation can answer that 
question. His religion made him happy. The relig- 
ion of Jesus Christ makes every one happy, who 
possesses it in all its fullness. The only way to be 
happy is to be a Christian. If you will give your 
heart wholly to God, he will take it and fill it with his 
joy. Everybody is in pursuit of happiness. O that 
everybody would seek happiness along the path which 
infinite Wisdom and Love have marked out for all 
human feet ! Then would their happiness be real, 
sure, permanent, above the reach of circumstances. 
Then, perfectly satisfied with the service and com- 
panionship of Jesus, they could sing : 

" Content with beholding his face, 
My all to his pleasure resigned, 

No changes of season or place 

Can make any change in my mind : 

Whilst blest with a sense of his love, 
A palace a toy would appear ; 

And prisons would palaces prove, 

If Jesus would dwell with me there." 

On the floor of the place where Paul was confined, 



122 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEE 

the priest pointed out a hole in the floor where tradi- 
tion says the Apostle Peter, when confined here, mir- 
aculously caused a spring to burst forth, that he might 
baptize his jailer, whom he had been instrumental in 
converting. My guide showed me on the wall near 
the stairs, under a protecting net-work of strong 
wire, the impress of St Peter's head and face, where 
he had leaned against the solid rock. I said the 
guide showed it to me. He tried to. But my imagi- 
nation was too feeble to see the apostle's profile, and 
my faith was too weak to believe that such a miracle 
was ever wrought. The priest evidently took pleasure 
in believing his story, and I had no time to waste in 
trying to argue him out of it. 

Leaving the prison, and the church which covered 
it, I looked down upon the Roman Forum, lying 
many feet below. It is, or was, an oblong level area, 
running eastward from the base of the Capitoline Hill 
bounded on the south by the Palatine and on the 
north by the Quirinal and Viminal hills. Along its 
sides were rows of magnificent temples and stately 
halls and courts of justice, while its surface was 
sprinkled over with monuments and statues. It was 
the centre of the political, religious, financial and 
social life of the ancient city. More than any other 
spot under the skies, it was the centre of the world. 
Here was a marble column sheathed in gilded bronze, 
called the " golden mile-stone," and inscribed with the 
names and distances of the chief towns of the Empire 
on the roads which radiated from the thirty-seven 
gates of Rome. 

In the Forum all elections were held. In the Forum 
all laws were enacted. In the Forum all decrees 
were proclaimed. In the Forum all judicial trials took 



OLD ROME. 123 

place. In the Forum all revolutions were consum- 
mated. Through the Forum all triumphal proces- 
sions marched. In the Forum great Caesar fell by 
the daggers of Brutus and his fellow conspirators. In 
the Forum the Republic died. In the Forum the 
Empire was born. In the Forum ancient Roman life 
was extinguished and buried. Next to the sacred 
places of Palestine, the Forum is the most interesting 
spot on earth. 

For centuries the Forum was buried out of sight by 
rubbish and ruins, except as those degraded Italians 
dug down in places to make lime of its precious 
marbles. The miserable wretches called it the " Cow 
Field," and used it for every profane and ignoble pur- 
pose. Within the past century it has been unearthed 
and its priceless treasures exposed to the wondering 
gaze of scholars and tourists from every land. 

I went down into the sacred place. I walked 
under the Triumphal Arch of Septimius Severus. I 
stood on the Rostrum, where Cicero used to pour out 
such torrents of eloquence. I walked along the Sacred 
Way, on the very stones over which the triumphal pro- 
cessions used to pass. I traversed and retraversed 
the pavement of the Basilica Julia. I looked up at 
the few remaining pillars of the temples of Peace, of 
Saturn and of .^Castor and Pollux. Farther east I saw 
the Basilica of Constantine, turned into a church, and 
the Temple of Romulus. I tried to print the scenes 
on my physical and mental' eye, and, in a measure, 
succeeded. 

As I walked among the sorrowful ruins of worldly 
glory, forever passed away, I thought of the eternal 
kingdom of Jesus Christ and felt like praising God 
that I had a right to call myself a citizen of that 
benign and perfect government. 



124 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

At the eastern end of the Forum I passed under 
the arches of Constantine and Titus. The latter 
interested me most. It was built in the year 81 to com- 
memorate the destruction of Jerusalem, by the armies 
of Rome under the general whose name it bears. It 
seems in a remarkable state of preservation, when we 
reflect that it is more than eighteen hundred years 
old. Under the arch, on one side, is a beautiful 
carving of Titus, crowned by Victory, riding in a 
four-horse chariot, driven by a female figure repre- 
senting Rome. On the opposite side we see a stone 
picture which almost brings tears to our eyes. It is 
a band of captive Jews, marching in the triumphal 
procession of their conqueror, bearing on their 
shoulders the golden table of shew-bread, taken from 
their demolished Temple, and the seven-branched, 
golden candle-stick. 

As 1 looked, I thought of the time when Jesus sat 
on the Mount of Olives, weeping over the approach- 
ing downfall of sinful Jerusalem, and saying : " The 
days shall come upon thee, that thine enemies shall 
cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, 
and keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thee 
even with the ground, and thy children within thee ; 
and they shall not leave in thee one stone on another ; 
because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation." 
And I thought : this monument is a standing proof 
that Jesus of Nazareth was a true prophet, and that 
he was, what he claimed to be, the true Messiah, the 
son of the Most High God. 

Near the Arch of Titus is the most celebrated ruin in 
Rome. It is the Colosseum, or, as it was originally 
called, the " Flavian Amphitheater." It was built 
by Titus, in the years 70 to 80, with the enforced 



OLD ROME. 125 

labor of hundreds of thousands of unhappy Jews, 
who had outlived their city and nation. It is in the 
shape of an elipse. Its long diameter is 615 feet, and 
the shorter 510 feet. Its external circumference is 
nearly one-third of a mile. The arena measures 274 
by 174 feet. On the outside it has four stories, and 
is 156 feet high. Within, above the arena, rise four 
ranges of tiers of seats, intersected by steps and pas- 
sages. It has no roof ; but, in ancient times, a huge 
canvas was stretched above it, on stout masts, to 
protect the spectators from sun and rain. It could 
seat 87,000 people. It is built of three different mate- 
rials. On the outside it is composed of huge blocks 
of brown limestone, originally held together by iron 
clamps. On the inside it is brick laid in the most 
durable kind of cement. Between the limestone and 
brick is a volcanic sand-rock, called tufa. I brought 
away specimens of the tufa and brick. 

I saw brick walls which have been exposed to the 
action of the weather for many centuries, in which 
the brick is as firmly held by the cement as though 
the masons had left it only a week before. The old 
Romans planned and built for the ages. Only about 
one-third of the structure remains. For many cen- 
turies it was a quarry, from which the lazy Italians 
dug materials for other buildings. The soft stones 
are full of holes where they bored in to extract the ore 
used in clamping them together. 

The Colosseum has ever been a symbol of the great- 
ness of Rome, and gave occasion for a prophetic 
saying : 

" While stands the Colosseum, Rome shall stand, 

When falls the Colosseum, Rome shall fall. 

And when Rome falls, with it shall fall the world." 



126 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

I was awed and charmed by this marvelous ruin. 
I slowly walked back and forth within the circuit of 
its solemn and majestic walls, examining its stones, 
and bricks, and arches, and stairways, and arena, and 
looking down into its two stories of dens and cham- 
bers, under the arena, where the wild beasts used to 
be kept. Then I climbed the stairs, and walked 
around the entire circumference, on the platform just 
above where the emperor and nobles used to sit at 
the shows and games. 

My head and heart were hot with thoughts, during 
the hour which I spent in that marvelous ruin. I 
thought of the dedication, 1810 years ago, lasting 
one hundred days, during which five thousand wild 
beasts were slain ; and hundreds and thousands of 
gladiators slaughtered each other, in the presence of 
Rome's best men and women ; and the arena was 
flooded with water, and a great naval battle was 
fought, as though two hostile fleets were contending 
at sea. Then I thought of the wonderful and blessed 
change which Christianity has wrought in human 
society and human hearts, making such spectacles 
impossible now ; and I thanked God that I was born 
in the nineteenth century in Christian America, rather 
than in the first century, in pagan Rome. If there 
is an honest, consistent and intelligent infidel in the 
world, he is very sorry that he was not born in time 
to be present at the dedication of the Roman Colos- 
seum, before Christianity came to curse the world 
with its doctrines of peace, fraternity and love. 

I had another thought. It took full possession of 
my soul. It blotted out the present, and carried me 
back seventeen hundred years. I want to seize every 
one of you and carry you back with me. Invisible 



OLD ROME. 127 

to human eyes, we are standing in the arena of the 
Flavian Amphitheater. 

It is. a bright summer afternoon. The seats above, 
and all around us, are filled with a noisy and excited 
crowd. Eighty-seven thousand pairs of eyes are 
looking down on the sand where we are standing. Up 
there, in the front row, on an elevated seat, is the 
Emperor, the sovereign ruler of the civilized world. 
On his right and left are the senators and vestal 
virgins. Behind him are the knights and nobles. 
On the highest and most distant rows are the ruffians 
and blacklegs of Rome. Between are all classes and 
conditions of the better sort. Hark ! what is that 
strange, muffled sound, which seems to come up 
through the solid earth, as though this arena were 
stretched over the mouth of hell, and the demons 
were screaming with pain. Why ! do you not know ? 
Those sounds are from the throats of hundreds of 
wild beasts, which have not tasted food for many 
days. Wild beasts ! Wild beasts without souls under 
us ! Wild beasts with souls possessed by the spirit 
of evil above and around us ! Surely, if there is a 
hell on earth, this is it. 

While we are thinking, suddenly a door is thrown 
open from under one of the arches, and a crowd of 
men, women, youths and maidens enter the arena, 
pushed forward by the spears of a cohort of soldiers. 
Standing in the center of the arena, around a gray- 
haired man, they begin to sing. We do not under- 
stand the words ; but from the tones and faces of the 
singers, we know that it is a pean of joy and victory. 
They are Christians. The old man is their pastor. 
Eighty-seven thousand throats send up a yell of 
insult and hate ; but we can hear the Christian sons: 



128 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

rising to heaven like incense from the golden altar 
in the Temple of Jehovah. This seems a section of 
Heaven let down into the mouth of hell. 

Suddenly a trumpet sounds. Immediately, through 
a score of open places under the arches a hundred 
ferocious beasts spring upon the sand. For a 
moment they glare up at the crowded seats and 
forward at the singing martyrs. The song rises 
louder and more joyfully. With frantic yells the 
beasts spring upon their prey. At once the song 
becomes less in volume, but rises higher in sweetness 
and triumph. All is confusion before our eyes — 
clouds of dust with the mingled forms of bounding 
beasts and falling martyrs. The song grows softer 
and softer, but sweeter and sweeter. 

The air grows clearer. We can see only one human 
form — a beautiful maiden, clad in snowy white, with 
clasped hands and upturned face, singing as mortal 
never sang before. For a moment, savage beasts and 
brutal men are awed into silence. Then men yell 
and clap their hands, and beasts yell and spring upon 
helpless innocence. Instantly the song ends in one 
triumphant note, and nothing remains but the beasts 
on the seats shouting with delight, and the beasts in 
the arena quarreling over a few white bones and 
blood-smeared rags. 

That scene, enacted a thousand times in. the old 
Roman Colosseum, means the victory of the martyrs 
— the victory of the truth. Truth cannot be 
destroyed. Truth will prevail. The history of 
eighteen centuries proves that Christianity cannot 
be destroyed ; that Christianity will prevail. There- 
fore Christianity is the truth. 

The only wise and safe course for you, my friend, 



OLD ROM/-. 129 

is to embrace Christianity, by abandoning all your 
sins and giving yourself by faith into the hands of 
Jesus Christ, to be his in time and in eternity. The 
martyrs overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the 
word of their testimony. By faith in that blood, and 
by witnessing for Jesus, you shall overcome sin and 
death and reiffri with God forever and ever. 



130 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN ERA VEL. 



VIII. 
MODERN ROME. 
" Seest thou these great buildings ? " — Mark xiii. 2. 

These words will serve merely as a motto, while I 
proceed to tell you more about the great buildings 
and wonderful sights of the most famous city in the 
world. 

It was hard work to get away from the Colosseum. 
By its grandeur and its strange memories, it seemed 
to entrance me and to hold me in willing captivity. 

At length I succeeded in tearing myself away, and, 
taking a carriage, drove about three-quarters of a 
mile in a south-east direction, almost to the city wall. 
The carriage stopped in front of the Basilica di San 
Giovanni in Laterano, which, being interpreted, is the 
Church of St. John Lateran. This is the oldest church 
in Rome. It outranks all others in the Catholic 
world. It is the Pope's church— the Cathedral of 
the Bishops of Rome. They call it the " Mother 
and Head of all the churches of the world." A 
Latin inscription on each side of the entrance so 
declares. The coronation of every pope must take 
place here. It has been so for many centuries, perhaps 
from the beginning of the papal power. Five 
(Ecumenical Councils have been held within its walls. 
The only council ever held elsewhere, in Rome, was 
the so-called Vatican Council, which proclaimed the 
doctrine of papal infallibility, in St. Peter's Church, 
in the year 1870. 



MODERN ROME. 131 

In ancient times a palace stood on this spot belong- 
ing to a man named Lateranus. Being implicated 
in a conspiracy against the government, under the 
reign of Nero, his estates were confiscated and 
became the property of the emperor. When Con- 
stantine the Great ascended the throne, he gave the 
palace to Pope Sylvester, and built a church on the 
palace grounds close by. The palace was the resi- 
dence of the popes for nearly a thousand years. 

The church has been their peculiar charge ever 
since the donation of Constantine. And yet the 
palace and church are not the same as at the begin- 
ning. Twice they have been destroyed by fire, and 
once by an earthquake. They have been rebuilt, 
enlarged, embellished and improved, times almost 
without number. 

The front of the church looks toward the east. 
Going up a flight of steps you pass under a portico, 
thirty-three feet deep and one hundred and ninety-six 
feet long. There are five doors into the interior of 
the church. One, called the " Holy Gate," is walled 
up, and is opened only in the year of jubilee, for the 
entrance of the pope. The central entrance has two 
splendid bronze doors, adorned with garlands and 
other ornaments. To the left is an ancient statue of 
Constantine, found in his bath house. 

As you walk up the nave — or main aisle, as we 
would call it, — four hundred and twenty-six feet long, 
you see twelve huge pillars, of many-colored mar- 
bles, each of which cost as much as this whole church. 
In the face of each pillar is a niche, wide and high 
and deep, and in each niche is a large white-marble 
statue of an Apostle. As you walk back and forth, 
and gaze at the stone images, they seem to be alive, 



132 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

and you almost fancy that the twelve most intimate 
friends of your Saviour have risen from the dead, in 
their glorified bodies. You distinguish them from 
each other by the peculiar emblems which they bear, 
as well as by their countenances. For example, 
Peter carries a bunch of keys, because Jesus said to 
him, or to the whole college of the apostles through 
him : " I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom 
of heaven." Andrew bears an X-shaped cross, 
because tradition says that he was put to death by 
being nailed to such an instrument. Simon holds a 
saw, because, if we can believe reports, he was sawn 
asunder by the enemies of the truth. Thomas 
always lifts at a long pike, or spear, indicating that 
he was killed with that kind of a weapon, thrust 
through his body. The emblem of John is an eagle; 
of James the Greater, a pilgrim's staff ; of James the 
Less, a fuller's pole ; of Bartholomew, a knife ; of 
Philip, a long staff with a cross at the top; of 
Matthew, a hatchet ; of Jude, a club ; of Matthias, 
a battle-axe. 

While you are looking at those statues, I want to 
say something about the men whom they represent. 
Those twelve men have done more to reform and 
purify and civilize and bless the world than any other 
twelve men who ever lived, or ever will live. They 
founded the Christian Church. As St. Paul declared, 
"the household of God " is " built on the foundation 
of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself 
being the chief corner stone." They founded the 
Church, and founded it so well that it has withstood 
the storms of eighteen centuries, and is stronger and 
more beautiful to-day than ever before. 

When we say that the Church is built on the apos- 



MODERN ROME. 133 

ties, one thing which we mean is that the whole 
Christian scheme depends on the doctrines which they 
taught and the facts of which they were witnesses. 
They declared to the world that they were intimately 
acquainted and associated with a man named Jesus, 
for the space of three years. They described his 
character and repeated his teachings. They affirmed 
that they had seen him perform hundreds of miracles 
in broad day light in the presence of thousands of 
spectators, such as curing the leprosy, opening the 
eyes of the blind, stilling the tempest, walking on 
the sea, turning water to wine, feeding crowds of 
hungry men with a handful of bread and raising the 
dead. They avowed that they saw him die ; that 
they witnessed his burial ; that after three days they 
saw him alive ; that, during the space of forty days, 
he appeared to them and conversed with them many 
times ; that they put their hands upon him ; that he 
ate in their presence ; and that, finally, having com- 
missioned them to proclaim his doctrines to all man- 
kind, he went up to heaven in their sight, in the day 
time, from a mountain on the east of Jerusalem. 

Now there are three theories in regard to the apos- 
tles and their Master, one which we must accept. 
The first theory is that they were weak-minded men ; 
that Jesus was a vile imposter, and that they were 
his dupes. We cannot, as rational men, accept that 
theory. Their subsequent lives, and the wonderful 
work which they accomplished, prove that they were 
not fools. It is impossible that twelve men, as clear- 
headed as we know them to have been, could be 
made to believe the story which they told if it was 
all a lie. 

The second theory is that the Apostles were cun- 



134 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

ning knaves, who invented this story on purpose to 
deceive the world and make capital for themselves. 
What could they expect to gain by such a course ? 
What did they gain by insisting that Jesus Christ 
was crucified for the sins of the world, and that he 
rose from the dead on the third^day ? They gained 
poverty, social ostracism, toil, hardship and persecu- 
tions of every kind. Did they gain anything else ? 
Yes. Peter gained crucifixion with his head down- 
ward. James the Less gained the privilege of being 
beaten to death with a fuller's pole. Andrew gained 
death on a cross of a peculiar form, which ever since 
has borne his name. Bartholomew gained the satis- 
faction of having his skin stripped from his body 
while he was yet alive. James the Greater gained 
the honor of having his head hewed from his 
shoulders by King Herod's executioner. Thomas 
gained a spear through his body. Philip gained the 
hangman's rope around his neck. Matthias gained 
a shower of stones bruising his flesh, and an axe cut- 
ting off his head. Jude gained a shower of arrows 
through his heart. Simon gained the special dis- 
tinction of being cut in two with a saw. Matthew 
gained martyrdom by sword or hatchet, in a distant 
corner of Africa. John was the only one of the 
Twelve who did not win a martyr's fiery crown. Do 
you believe that the Apostles invented the story of 
Jesus and his miraculous works for the sake of what 
they could make by deceiving the world ? If you 
believe that, there is nothing which you could not 
believe. 

Only one theory remains, a theory which every 
honest and intelligent person accepts : The Apostles 
told the truth. Jesus Christ is the eternal Son of 



MODERN ROME. 135 

God. He laid down his life on the cross for the sins 
of the world. He rose from the dead and ascended 
into heaven. He is the Saviour of men. His religion 
is the only true religion. If you repent of your sins 
and believe in Christ, you will have everlasting life. 
It you reject Christ, you will everlastingly perish. 

In the last chapter but one of this Holy Bible, I 
read that on the twelve precious stones which com- 
pose the foundations of the jasper walls of the Celes- 
tial City are graven the names of the Twelve Apostles 
of Jesus Christ. I understand that to mean, that 
none can ever enter Heaven who willfully rejects the 
testimony and teaching of these twelve men, whose 
marble statues I saw in the church of St. John the 
Baptist at Rome. 

Moving up the nave we reach the center of the 
transept where, raised four steps above the richly 
inlaid floor, is the canopy, a beautiful work erected 
five hundred years ago. It covers numerous highly 
venerated relics, including, it is said, the heads of the 
saints Peter and Paul. Beneath it also is the high 
altar, believed to contain a wooden table used by St. 
Peter as a communion table. At this altar no one is 
ever permitted to say mass except the pope or some 
priest especially appointed by him. 

Turning to the right, we leave the church through 
the door of the north transept. We are in the Piazza 
di San Giovanni in Laterano, or the Square of St. John 
Lateran. In front, in the center of the square, is the 
largest obelisk in existence. It was erected in front 
of the temple of the Sun at Thebes in Egypt, thirty- 
five hundred years ago, and brought to Rome by 
Constantine in the year 357. It is of red granite, 
weighs six hundred tons and, including the pedestal, 



136 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

is one hundred and thirty-five feet high. What a 
mass of stone that is, to be hewed out of the quarry- 
in one block ! . 

At our left is an old baptistery, where, according 
to Roman tradition, the Emperor Constantine was 
baptized, by Pope Sylvester, in the year 324. On 
our right, stretching far out, is the old Papal Palace, 
already mentioned. After His Holiness moved to 
the Vatican, it became an orphan asylum. Since 
1843, it has been a museum for heathen and Christian 
antiquities. I did not go in. 

Around in the rear of the palace was something 
which I was determined to see. And I did. It was 
the Scala Santa, or Holy Staircase. It is more gen- 
erally known to tourists as " Pilate's Staircase." It 
is simply a flight of twenty- eight white marble steps, 
contained in a little chapel erected for the purpose. 
It is alleged, by the Romans, that this is the stair- 
case which led up into Pilate's judgment hall at 
Jerusalem, and that these identical stones were 
pressed by the feet of Jesus four times, during his 
trial by the Roman governor and by Herod and after 
his condemnation to the cross. It is also asserted 
that it was carried by angels from Jerusalem to 
Rome. The fact seems to be that Helena, the mother 
of Constantine, brought it from Palestine in the year 
326. But whether Christ or Pilate ever trod it, no 
one knows, and no one,ought to care. 

You are told that if you ascend that staircase on 
your knees, kissing each step as you go up, and then 
repeat a prayer at the top, you will receive a peculiar 
spiritual blessing. Millions have tried the experi- 
ment, until the stones are almost worn through by 
their knees and lips. A wooden covering has been 



a MODERN R OME. 1 37 

placed upon them, and that is well-nigh worn away. 

To me the chief interest attaching to Pilate's Stair- 
case was the fact that Martin Luther undertook to 
climb it, three hundred and seventy years ago, but 
could not reach the top. For years he had been 
groaning under a crushing burden of conscious guilt. 
He had tried every way to obtain the forgiveness for 
his sins and the assurance of the love and favor of 
God. But the more he scourged and starved and 
tormented himself, the worse he felt. At last he 
came to Rome. Rome could do nothing for his sin- 
sick soul. One day, hoping for relief, he was crawl- 
ing up this staircase. Suddenly, when about half 
way up, he heard a voice, seemingly as loud as 
thunder, shouting in the ears of his soul : " The just 
shall live by faith." As quick as a flash of lightning, 
he saw God's way of saving the soul. He saw, and 
laid hold, and felt that he was saved. Springing to 
his feet, he faced about, and walked down the stairs, 
and hurried home to Germany a new man, and began 
to preach the grand, old-fashioned, New Testament 
doctrine of justification by faith. He preached 
what Christ and the Apostles had preached : " That 
if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, 
and shalt believe in thine heart that God raised him 
from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the 
heart man believeth unto righteousness ; and with 
the mouth confession is made unto salvation." I 
turned away from the Holy Staircase, confirmed in 
that creed which says, in the words of Paul in his 
letter to the Romans : " Therefore we conclude that 
a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the 
law*." 

You may ascend the Holy Staircase, as many times 



138 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. ^ 

as you please. You may be baptized in the very 
place where Pope Sylvester baptized Constantine the 
Great. You may receive the Holy Communion at 
the high altar of the church which is styled the 
" Mother and Head of all the churches of the world." 
You may keep all the rules of the Church with per- 
fect exactness. Still, if you have not saving faith in 
the Lord Jesus Christ, these things will profit you 
nothing. When Christ commissioned his ministers 
he said : " Go ye into all the world, and preach the 
gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is 
baptized shall be saved ; but he that believeth not 
shall be damned ; " and when the Philippian jailer 
said to Paul and Silas : "Sirs, what must I do to be 
saved ?" their instant answer was : " Believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." 

From St. John Lateran, I went to the Church of 
St. Peter in Chains. It derives its name from the 
fact that it was built to contain some chains which 
tradition says were worn by the Apostle Peter when 
he was a prisoner in the imperial city. There is 
nothing very remarkable about the church itself. 
But it contains something which is very remarkable. 
I do not refer to St. Peter's chains. I did not see 
them, or ask to see them, or care anything about 
them. 

I went to the place simply and solely to see one of 
the most famous works of one of the greatest sculp- 
tors the world has ever known — the statue of Moses 
by Michael Angelo. It did not disappoint me. I 
gazed at it long and earnestly. It is the figure of a 
majestic old man, in white marble, with a long flow- 
ing beard, holding the tablets of the law in his hands, 
and looking as though he had just come down from 



MODERN ROME. 139 

forty days of communion with Jehovah on the sum- 
mit of Mt. Sinai. There is a far- away expression on 
his face, as though he were looking into the unseen 
world, and into the face of God. 

Moses was one of the greatest and most successful 
men that ever lived. He was great and successful 
chiefly because he lived in constant communion with 
the Almighty and drew his intellectual and spiritual 
life from him. If you would have your life a success, 
you must live in God, and God must live in you. 

There is one very singular thing about this statue 
of Moses. He has small horns growing out of his 
head. He is always thus represented by mediaeval 
artists, owing to an erroneous translation of the 
statement in Exodus that when he came down from 
the presence of God his face shone. The Hebrew 
word to shine is karan. Horn is keren. The men 
who translated the Bible into Latin mistook karan 
for keren, and made the Bible say that Moses had 
horns on his head, when he came down from the 
mountain. 

Perhaps you will be dissatisfied unless you hear 
more about the chains of St. Peter. They are kept 
in a cabinet under the high altar, behind bronze 
doors, and are exhibited only once a year, namely, 
on the first day of August. 

When I left the church it was almost night. So I 
went in pursuit of food and a bed. These I found 
on the Via Cavour, in a hotel near where I lay sick 
during those wretched days which I shall always 
remember with horror, yet with gratitude. 

The next morning I visited, before breakfast, the 
neighboring church of Santa Maria Maggiore. Rome 
has about three hundred and sixty churches, eighty 



140 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 

of which are dedicated to the Virgin Mother of 
Christ. Of the eighty, this is the largest ; hence its 
name, Maggiore. It is one of the oldest churches in 
Rome, and, indeed in Christendom. Its foundation 
dates back nearly fifteen hundred years. A legend 
says that the Virgin Mary appeared, at the same 
time, to the pope and to a devout layman, and com- 
manded them to build her a church on a spot where 
they should find a deposit of snow the following morn- 
ing—the fifth of August. Since first erected, it has 
many times been restored, enlarged and improved. It 
is a very grand and beautiful building ; but, for lack of 
time, I shall not attempt to describe it. 

On the fifth of every August a special service is 
held here, to commemorate the miraculous snow- 
storm, by which the Virgin Mary indicated the place 
of her sanctuary so many centuries ago. One part 
of this special service is a fall of snow. An American 
lady who was present on one of these occasions told 
me what she saw. At a certain point in the ceremonies 
the officiating priest informed the assembled crowd 
that the time for the snowstorm had arrived. 
Immediately large flakes of snow began to fall upon 
the pavement, within a circular railing, from the 
dome. Down they came till the floor was white. 
The people were greatly excited. By and by the 
storm ceased. Then the priest permitted the people 
to go forward and help themselves to pinches of the 
snow, which they carried away to their houses, with 
every demonstration of joy. The American lady 
went up and got a handful of snow. What do you 
think it was? It was the petals of white roses. 

After breakfast, I secured a carriage and set out for 
St. Peter's and the Vatican, more than two miles 



MODERN ROME. 141 

distant. I had a very enjoyable ride through many 
streets of old and new Rome. Some of the streets 
were crooked ; some were straight ; some were nar- 
row ; some were wide. All were clean. I saw unin- 
habited ruins, swarming hovels, mediaeval palaces, 
modern mansions and all kinds of unfinished buildings 
rising from new foundations. 

All the while I was looking out for Rome's famous, 
river, the yellow Tiber. Soon it appeared, and yellow 
it was. It is always yellow, with the mud which it 
carries down to the sea from the lands through which 
it flows. I could not help contrasting it with another 
river, which flows through another city. This city, 
by a figure of speech, is called eternal. That city is 
eternal. No mortal has ever trodden its pavements 
of crystaline gold. But John saw it, and his angelic 
guide showed him "a pure river of water of life, clear 
as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and 
of the Lamb." I have had one of my most ardent 
earthly desires gratified in seeing the muddy river of 
Rome. Shall I ever see the pure River of Life, which 
flows through the City of God ? May that be the 
most intense longing and steadfast purpose of every 
one who hears my voice to-night ! 

We crossed the Tiber by the Bridge of St. Angelo, 
right in front of the frowning castle of the same 
name, which used to be the Mausoleum of the 
Emperor Hadrian, and, turning to the left, were soon 
in the Square of St. Peter. I call it a square, although 
it is nearly round. The Italians call it a piazza. It 
is 780 feet in diameter from right to left. In its 
center is an obelisk brought from Egypt by Caligula, 
fourth Emperor of Rome. On either side of the 
obelisk is a beautiful fountain. The open space is 



142 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

nearly enclosed by two imposing colonnades, on the 
right and left. Each colonnade consists of four 
series of Doric columns. These covered passages, 
the central of which is wide enough for two carriages 
abreast, are formed by 284 columns and 88 buttresses. 
On the roofs are 162 statues. The cost of construc- 
tion was $820,000. The pavement of the space 
which the colonnades enclose cost more than 
eighty thousand dollars. The effect is striking, and 
the piazza forms a fitting approach to the largest 
church in the world. 

At the right of the church, and close to it, is the 
Vatican, with its gardens and grounds. The Vatican 
is the palace of the popes — the largest palace in the 
world. It is also the largest and richest art gallery 
that ever existed. According to the most trust- 
worthy estimates, it contains more than ten thousand 
rooms ; and a catalogue of its paintings and statues 
by the most gifted artists, would fill many ponderous 
volumes. 

Passing around through the right hand colonnade 
of the piazza, I came to the principal entrance of 
that world of artistic wonders, my heart bounding 
with a joyous expectation which had lain there, wide 
awake, ever since I decided to take this European 
trip. Suddenly I found myself confronted by two of 
the pope's guards, in fantastic mediaeval uniforms, 
armed with muskets and bayonets, and was posi- 
tively but politely informed that the Vatican was 
shut against all visitors, every afternoon, from the 
beginning of June to the end of September. My con- 
sternation and disappointment and grief were greater 
than I can describe. Had I come through so many 
toils and perils and leagues of expensive travel, to be 



MODERN ROME. 148 

driven back, by hostile steel, from the very gate of 
Art's own paradise ? I tried every kind of persuasion 
which I could invent without effect. I have since 
thought of one other thing, which did not then come 
to my mind. Perhaps if I had shown the guards a 
few pieces of silver or gold, they would have relented 
and let me in. But I turned sadly away, and shall 
never cease to feel the pangs of that, the greatest 
single, disappointment of my life. 

And yet there is rarely a great loss without some 
small gain. In that case the gain was a valuable 
spiritual lesson, which came with great weight to 
my mind and heart. I expect to get into Heaven, 
the palace of God, as much as I expected to get into 
the Vatican, the palace of the Pope. But I may be 
disappointed. By- and by when I come up to the 
celestial gate, I may be repelled with the awful dec- 
laration that I can never enter, that I am everlastingly 
too late. According to the Bible, many will thus be 
disappointed. 

I suppose everybody in this congregation expects 
in some way to get into heaven. My friend, on what 
do you base your expectation ? Is it your church- 
membership ? If that is all you have, you have . 
nothing. The Church cannot save you. Is it the 
fact that you have been baptized and have partaken 
of the Holy Communion ? Baptism and the Eucha- 
rist will do you no good, unless your heart is right 
toward God. Do you depend upon the good works 
which you have performed ? St. Paul says : " Though 
I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I 
give my body to be burned, and have not love, it 
profiteth me nothing." Do you rely upon the money 
which you have given for the support of the gospel ? 



144 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Do not be so foolish as to imagine that you can buy 
your way into the golden City. Hear what Christ 
the great Bishop of souls has said : "Strive to enter 
in at the narrow gate : for many, I say unto you, 
will seek to enter in and shall not be able. When 
once the Master of the house is risen up, and hath 
shut to the door, and ye begin to stand without, 
and to knock at the door, saying, Lord, Lord, open 
unto us ; and he shall answer and say unto you, I 
know you not whence ye are ; then shall ye begin to 
say, we have eaten and drunk in thy presence, and 
thou hast taught in our streets. But he shall say, 
I tell you, I know you not whence ye are : depart 
from me all ye workers of iniquity." Again the 
Saviour said : " Not every one that saith unto me, 
Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of Heaven ; 
but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in 
heaven. Many will say to me in that day. Lord, 
Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name ? and in 
thy name cast out devils ? and in thy name done 
many wonderful w T orks ? And then will I profess 
unto them, I never knew you : depart from me, ye 
that work iniquity." My great mistake at Rome was 
that I did not more carefully study the guide books, 
and find out at what hour the Vatican was open. In 
that case I should have gone to the palace in the fore- 
noon instead of the afternoon, and should have 
gained admittance. The great mistake of millions 
now is that they do not with sufficient care study the 
great Guide Book which God has given them — the 
Holy Bible. If you will study this book for yourself, 
and follow the directions which it gives, you will 
certainly get into Heaven. 

In Europe you rarely meet a tourist who has not a 



MODERN ROME. 145 

guide book in his hand. Frequently I saw travelers 
reading in their guide books while they were walking 
along the streets. You ought to have the Bible in 
your hand every day, and meditate upon its precepts 
while you are busy with your secular work. You 
cannot read the Bible much without making this 
discovery : that, in order to gain admission to the 
palace of God, you must truly repent of all your 
sins ; you must believe on the Lord jesus Christ ; 
you must be born again ; you must live a life of self- 
denial, honesty, virtue and purity. 

Shut out of the Vatican, I went to the Basilica, or 
Church of St. Peter. This is the largest and most 
famous church in the world. Constantine the Great, 
in the early part of the fourth century, erected a 
church on this same spot, and gave it the same name. 
The site of both edifices had been occupied by Nero's 
circus, where it is known thousands of Christians 
suffered martyrdom. It is claimed that the Apostle 
Peter was among the number. Some were sewed up 
in the skins of wild beasts and torn in pieces by 
dogs. Some were crucified. Some were smeared 
with pitch and set on fire, to light up the place by 
night while a horse-race was in progress. 

The present church was commenced about the 
year 1450, and dedicated in 1626. Several architects 
assisted in its construction, among whom were 
Raphael and Michael Angelo. The building covers 
an area of 162,000 square feet, and yet it is so sym- 
metrical in its proportions that the tourist cannot 
comprehend its immensity till he has studied it many 
days. It covers nearly four acres. The ground 
which it occupies would hold thirty-two churches as 
large as the one in which we worship to-night. 



146 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

Crossing the portico, which is 43 feet wide and 234 
feet long, under a magnificently decorated ceiling 66 
feet high, we enter the main portion of the edifice. 
The floor is made of different colored marbles, laid 
in beautiful patterns. Before us stretches the entire 
interior length of the church, 615 feet, or nearly one- 
eighth of a mile. On either side of this nave — or 
main aisle, as you would call it — which is 87 feet 
wide, are four enormous pillars, supporting the roof. 
The pillars are made of marble, in many colors, 
exquisitely polished. Each pillar has a large niche, 
fronting the nave, filled with marble statues. Huge 
marble arches span the spaces between the pillars. 
Passing under these arches to the right and to the 
left, we find ourselves in the aisles of the church, 
which are most elaborately and richly adorned with 
pillars, and arches, and mosiac pictures, and hundreds 
of statues, and monuments of deceased popes and 
other distinguished persons. Opening upon the aisles 
are numerous side chapels, each gorgeously furnished 
with an altar and other apparatus of Catholic worship. 

The church contains twenty-nine altars, in addition 
to the high altar, 148 columns, and, nobody knows 
how many, hundreds of statues. It is a grand aggre- 
g*ation of splendid churches, chapels, tombs and works 
of art. If you look straight up, as you walk along 
the two aisles, you will discover that the soft light 
which casts a sort of celestial glory upon every 
object, comes down through sixteen large domes, all 
finished in mosaics. Coming back into the nave we 
look up at the gorgeously coffered and gilded vault- 
ing of the ceiling. How high do you think it is ? If 
you guess, you will not guess enough. It is one 
hundred and fifty feet. 



MODERN ROME. 147 

Let us walk up the nave. Halt ! Now we are 
three hundred feet from the door. We are opposite 
the fourth pair of columns. Do you see that bronze 
statue of a man sitting against the north column, on 
a throne of white marble, under a canopy, with two 
large candelabra in front ? That represents St. 
Peter. He extends his right foot for you to kiss his 
great toe. Millions on millions have rendered that 
homage ; and, if you go nearer and look, you will see 
that the soft lips of the worshipers have w T orn away 
the hard metal till the Apostle's toe is almost gone. 
If you run a tape line around the pillar against which 
St. Peter sits, you will find that it is 234 feet in cir- 
cumference. The circumference of the audience 
room of the Medina Methodist church is 250 feet. 
So you see that the base of St. Peter's pillar is nearly 
as large as the entire floor of the sanctuary where 
you worship. That pillar is one of four — all exactly 
alike — which support the great central dome. 

Come and stand under the dome with me. It is 
195 feet in diameter and 613 feet in circumference. 
Look straight up. From the pavement, where your 
feet are, to the summit of the lantern the height is 
403 feet. Is it not grand, majestic, sublime ? It is 
the greatest monument to the genius of Michael 
Angelo, by whom it was designed and partially com- 
pleted. It is pictured all over, in mosaics, with fig- 
ures of evangelists, apostles, the Virgin, the Saviour, 
and the Almighty Form looking down over all. Just 
think ! That dome is so large that if it rested on 
the ground it would cover nearly half an acre. And 
yet the hand of Michael Angelo has tossed it up into 
the air so high that its base is two hundred feet above 
the earth. 



148 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

Directly under the dome is the high altar, beneath 
a bronze canopy, where the pope alone reads mass on 
high festivals. Under the high altar is the tomb of 
St. Peter. To get to the tomb, I went down a flight 
of stone steps, into a large oval roofless apartment, 
which might be called a depression in the floor of 
the church. Around the edge, resting on the church 
floor, is a marble railing supporting a circle of eighty- 
nine ever burning lamps. A guide opened the tomb, 
and showed me a casket, in which, looking through 
a pane of glass set in its face, I saw what is said to 
be two old wooden coffins in which the remains of 
Peter and Paul were found many centuries ago. 
There rest the ashes of the two saints to-day, accord- 
ing to the guide, except their heads, which are exhib- 
ited in the church of St. John Lateran. 

After several hours of sharpest inspection, I turned 
away, feeling that I had only begun to see the world's 
grandest temple, which had cost, at its dedication 
fifty million dollars, and on whose maintenance thirty- 
seven thousand dollars are annually expended. 

If an atheist were to ask me who planned and 
built St. Peter's Cathedral, I think I should reply, 
not intending to deceive him, but wishing to open 
his mind to receive the truth about God: No one 
built or planned it. It came by chance. Particles 
of dead matter, swirling about, happened to shape 
themselves into these walls, and domes, and columns 
and statues, and frescoes and altars. If then he 
should stare at me and exclaim : " Impossible ! " I 
should take him in imagination, if I could, for a walk, 
through a forest, on a June morning. I should say : 
This is nature's cathedral. These over-arching trees, 
from the study of which man first learned to rear the 



MODERN ROME. 140 

Gothic arch, are the columns. The woodland road 
is the nave. The verdant vistas are the aisles. The 
emerald leaves, flecked with golden sunlight, are the 
frescoes. Moss, and grass, and flowers make up the 
mosaic pavement, such as no mortal artist ever 
dreamed of making. ' Heaven's bending canopy is 
the dome. Yonder brook, tumbling over the rocks in 
ceaseless melody, is the organ. Countless forms of 
beast and bird and insect life compose the congrega- 
gation. This is a cathedral which far surpasses the 
grandest ever reared by human hands. 

Can you believe that nature's temple came into 
existence by chance ? " Every house is builded by 
someone; but he that built all things is God." A 
man who should say that the Basilica of St. Peter, at 
Rome, came into existence without human hands 
would be a fool. He is a greater fool who says that 
this world was not created by a person of infinite 
intelligence ; who says : " There is no God." 



150 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 



IX. 
FROM ROME TO LONDON. 

" How long shall thy journey be ? " — Nehemiah ii. 6. 

When I was at Genzano, and the time drew near 
when it would be safe for me to resume my travels, 
this was the question which I put to myself : " How 
long shall thy journey be? " After long deliberation 
and prayerful weighing of probabilities, I decided 
to go from Rome to London, as straight as I could. 
To the question : " How long shall thy journey be ?" 
I found an answer in a rail-way guidebook ; ''Eleven 
hundred and fourteen miles, and forty-three and a 
half hours." 

At the close of last Sunday evening's discourse, 
we had just come out of St. Peter's Church. Using 
our imagination, we can say that we have just left 
St. Peter's. It is now about four o'clock. Our 
train does not leave until nine forty-five. We have 
three or four hours more, before dark, which we can 
spend in viewing Rome. We could well use four 
weeks, if we had so much time. 

That was my feeling that afternoon. But I was 
determined to see and remember all I could. Get- 
ting into a carriage, I was driven over the Tiber, by 
the same bridge which I had crossed before. Turning 
to the left, and keeping near the river for a distance 
of nearly a mile, we reached the Piazza del Popolo. 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 



151 



Crossing that famous square— with its Egyptian 
obelisk, standing in the midst of four water-spouting 
lionesses— we passed through Rome's most northern 
gate, the Porto del Popolo, and soon were in the 
Borghese Villa. 

The Borghese Villa is simply a surburban park of 
vast extent and extraordinary beauty. I have not 
the time, or ability, adequately to describe it. Beau- 
tiful lawns, majestic trees, magnificent vistas, perfect 
carriage drives, lovely statues, crystaline fountains, 
graceful temples and fascinating ruins make up its 
endless charms. It seemed to lack but one thing to 
make it a perfect earthly paradise. It was the dry 
season. No rain had fallen for many weeks ; and 
every leaf and flower and blade of grass, except in 
the vicinity of the fountains, was crying for water. 
What would this physical world be without water ? 
It would soon become a horrible desert of drifting 
sand, without one speck of animal or vegetable life. 
What material water is to the physical world, the 
water of life, the pure religion of Jesus Christ, 'is to 
the moral and intellectual world. If Jesus, the Son 
of God, had not lived and died and risen again, 
there would not be on this globe, one particle of 
virtue, love and truth ; all would be corruption, sin 
and spiritual death. Every good thing under the 
skies owes its existence, directly or indirectly, to 
" the glorious gospel of the blessed God." Nothing 
is needed to cure all the evil of this world, and to 
make it a paradise of moral beauty but a copious 
and protracted rain of gospel grace, falling on all 
nations and cities and families and hearts. O God ! 
when will this dry season come to an end, and the 
spring time of universal and everlasting greenness 
and beauty begin ? 



152 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA PEL. 

From the park we drove back into the city, through 
the Porto del Popolo, and, turning to the left, ascend- 
ing the Pincian Hill. This has never been counted 
among the hills of Rome. It stood partly within and 
partly without the ancient city. It was called the "Hill 
of Gardens." Here were once the famous gardens of 
Lucullus. It is covered with elegant mansions, and 
charming little parks, and groups of trees, and 
shaded walks, and statues of celebrated Italians. It 
is a fashionable drive in the evening, when the 
wealthy citizens frequently pay and receive visits in 
their carriages. The projecting terrace at the sum- 
mit commands a magnificent view of the entire city. 
On the right, winding through the landscape from 
the farthest rear to the most distant front, is the 
river. Far away to the south, beyond the city walls, 
stretches and rolls the Campagna, the home of 
desolation, the summer resort of malaria and fever 
and' death. Toward the south-east, just within the 
walls, is the Church of St. John Lateran, styled " the 
Mother and Head of all the churches of the world." 
Half a mile west, in nearly the same line, rises the 
Palatine Hill, covered with the ruins of the palaces 
of the Caesars. Immediately in front of that, we 
catch a faint glimpse of the tops of some of the 
ruins in the Forum. Close to the Forum, at the left — 
I am not sure that your eyes are sharp enough to see 
it — is the Colosseum. The intervening space in 
front is filled in with the spires and domes of scores 
of immense churches and an indistinguishable mass 
of buildings of every kind and size and shape. 
Down here at our feet are the Piazza and Porto del 
Popolo, from which radiate three important streets. 
The middle one, nearly a mile in length, is the Corso, 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 153 

the great street of modern Rome, the center, every 
spring, of that eight-clay revel, called the Carni- 
val, which ushers in the gloom and blackness of 
Lent. Almost directly west are the Palace of the 
Vatican, covering more than twenty acres of ground, 
the Castle of St. Angelo and the Basilica of St. 
Peter. St. Peter's dome is the most conspicuous 
object within the circumference of our vision. 
From whatever direction the tourist may come, it 
signals his entrance into the Eternal City. Viewed 
from a distance, it seems suspended midway between 
earth and heaven. It is to Rome what Vesuvius is to 
Naples, only a greater wonder ; for the Almighty 
threw up the mountain, while a man, Michael 
Angelo, hung the dome. 

Descending the Pincian Hill, I rode through the city 
in all directions. I cannot begin to name the inter- 
esting objects which I saw. One was a very odd-look- 
ing dwelling, where Rienzi, known to every school- 
boy through a reputed speech of his beginning : 
" I come not here to talk." used to live. 

Another building, which greatly interested me, 
was St. Paul's Methodist Episcopal Church, a small 
but beautiful stone edifice, the first protestant house 
of worship ever erected in the Seven Hilled City. 
There a congregation of native Italians meet every 
Sabbath, under a pastor of their own nationality, and 
worship God with the same forms which we employ. 
Methodism is a feeble plant in Rome ; but is destined 
to grow, and fill all Italy with fragrance and beauty. 
Methodism was once a feeble plant in America. One 
hundred and twenty-five years ago there were only 
five Methodists in all this great country. To-day, 
beneath the "stars and stripes," there are nearly five 



154 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

million persons who are actual members of the Meth- 
odist church ; and five million more who belong to 
Methodist Sunday-schools, and regularly attend Meth- 
odist services. These figures prove that the Meth- 
odists are the largest Protestant body in this country ; 
and that, if they were to count their children, as our 
Catholic friends do theirs, they would be the most 
numerous of all the American churches. I have 
referred to the growth of Methodism in America 
during the past century and a quarter, to give you an 
idea of what it maybe in Italy during the coming one 
hundred and twenty-five years. There is reason to 
believe that, in the year 2015, there will be more 
Christians in Italy calling themselves by the name of 
Methodists than by any other denominational title. 

After driving around in an aimless kind of a way 
for about an hour, we turned the horses' heads to the 
west and south and left the. city by the gate of 
St. Paul. Passing the Pyramid of Cestins, and the 
Protestant Cemetery— where sleep the remains of 
Shelby and Keats and of many other distinguished 
pilgrims — we came, after riding about a mile, to the 
church of St. Paul beyond the walls. 

This sacred edifice stands on the spot where tradi- 
tion says the Apostle Paul was beheaded. It was 
founded in the year 388, but has been many times 
seriously damaged and extensively restored. Most of 
the present edifice is nearly new. It is one of the 
most beautiful churches in the world, so far as its 
interior embellishment- is concerned. I have not the 
time to give you a minute description. I would like 
to have you notice a few of its chief attractions. 
Imagine yourself standing in the nave, near the front, 
or western entrance. Under your feet is an inlaid 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 155 

marble pavement, almost as smooth as glass. Seventy- 
five feet above you is a richly coffered ceiling. Run- 
ning down each side, is a row of forty Corinthian 
columns, of Simplon granite. Each column is at least 
thirty feet high, was hewed from a single piece of 
stone, and is so perfectly polished that you could use 
it as a mirror in combing your hair or shaving your 
face. Above each column is a medallion portrait of a 
pope in mosaic, five feet in diameter. Between the 
windows, in the upper part of the nave, are pictures 
of scenes in the life of Paul, by distinguished artists. 
At the other end of the nave, about three hundred feet 
distant, you see a huge arch, nearly as wide and high 
as the nave itself. On either side of the arch, stand- 
ing on a heavy pedestal, is a colossal statue. One 
represents Paul ; the other Peter. Beyond the arch 
is the high altar, under a canopy supported by four 
yellowish columns of oriental alabaster, standing on 
pedestals of Russian malachite. They are incompar- 
ably the most beautiful columns I ever saw. 

The whole interior of the church is rich, and bril- 
liant, and gorgeous, and resplendent, beyond descrip- 
tion. It was a great delight to me, because I was sur- 
prised by its exceeding beauty, not expecting to find 
such a magnificent temple in such an out-of-the-way 
place. 

Tearing myself away from what might have 
employed my closest attention for a week, I climbed 
back into the carriage and was driven across the 
country eastward to the Appian Way. 

This is the most celebrated of the Ancient Roman 
roads. It was constructed by Appius Claudius about 
313 years before the birth of Christ. Originally it 
extended from Rome to Capua, 125 miles. Subse- 



156 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

quently it was continued across the Italian peninsula 
to Brundusium. It was built in a very expensive 
manner, on a foundation of solid concrete ; and was 
paved with large blocks of the hardest stone, closely 
fitted and laid in cement. Those old Romans, if you 
do call them semi-barbarians, could not tolerate such 
wretched roads as we have in Orleans County. The 
old pavement still remains, in many places ; and I 
had the pleasure of riding over the identical stones 
which were scratched by the wheels of Pompey's 
chariots and pressed by the feet of Paul the Apostle. 
For a long distance the road is lined' with ancient 
Roman tombs, crumbling into dust. Back in the 
fields, I conld see the ruined arches of old aqueducts 
built when Rome was the imperial mistress of the 
world. It was difficult to realize that it was the 
nineteenth century in which I was living. If there 
were wonders about me, there were greater wonders 
under my feet. I was riding above the catacombs. I 
passed near several churches built over the entrances 
to these subterranean dwellings and cemeteries of the 
early Christians. I had neither time nor strength to 
descend and explore. 

The catacombs are chambers and passages, dug 
out in the soft rock underlying the soil of the Com- 
pagna. It is estimated that the total length of all 
their galleries amounts to 590 miles. In them, during 
the days of cruel persecution, when it was a capital 
crime to profess the Christian religion, the Christians 
lived, and worshiped, and died, and were buried. The 
number thus laid to rest, where the light of the sun 
has never penetrated, is estimated at six millions. 

What a hard time Christians had in those days ! 
What an easy time Christians have now ! During 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 157 

the first two centuries, millions of men and women 
gladly lived in the catacombs and cheerfully died by 
the most horrible torture, that they might honor the 
name of Jesus Christ and spread his gospel through 
the world. Christianity was a mighty power then. 
Nothing could stay its triumphal march. 

In these days we have a weak, emasculated, kid- 
gloved, white-slippered, silk and satin kind of Chris- 
tianity, which whines and complains, if it is asked to 
suffer anything or do anything. Think of the cata- 
combs and the wild beasts of the Colosseum, and 
then blush with shame at your weakness and cow- 
ardice. Those Roman Christians could face a 
hungry tiger, for the sake of Christ. You cannot go 
to church in the face of an April shower. They had 
courage to brave the wrath of an emperor with a 
.hundred thousand soldiers at his back. You turn 
pale and dare not confess Christ at a prayer-meeting 
of fifty neighbors, his friends and yours. They 
exultingly surrendered every pleasure and honor and 
life itself, that they might please God. You think 
you make a tremendous sacrifice, if you pay ten dollars 
a year for a sitting in some elegant church. At the 
call of their Master, they waded through fire up to 
their chins. You think so little of your divine Lord 
that you cannot go to his sanctuary on his holy day, 
if the mercury drops to zero, or six inches of snow 
covers the ground. Their type of Christianity is rep- 
resented by a maiden singing alone in the Colosseum, 
with eighty-seven thousand wild beasts, with .souls, 
yelling on the seats and a hundred wild beasts, with- 
out souls, yelling on the arena Your type of Chris- 
tianity is represented by an able-bodied man, in 
perfect health, sitting in front of a parlor grate, on a 



158 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

drizzly Sunday, reading his Sunday newspaper, while 
his pastor is in his pulpit, a block away, preaching 
to almost empty pews. When I say "you" I do not 
mean all nineteenth century Christians ; I mean a 
majority, or at least a large minority, of the kind of 
Christians which make up our American churches. 
If I have painted the portrait of any church member 
in this congregation, I hope he will look at it till he 
despises himself, and becomes a better representative 
of the Saviour who died to redeem him. 

In the gathering twilight I rode back to Rome. A 
short distance south of the city I passed a little 
church on the right called the church of Domine Quo 
Vadis. It is so named from the legend that St. 
Peter, fleeing from the death of a martyr, here met 
his master and enquired of him : " Domine, quo 
vadis?" " Lord, whither art thou going?" to which 
he received the reply : " Venis iterum crucifigi," "I 
am going to be crucified a second time." Then the 
Apostle ashamed of his weakness returned. It is 
well for all Christians to understand that when they 
are guilty of a mean or cowardly act, " they crucify 
the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open 
shame." On we drove into the city by the Gate of 
St. Sebastian, beneath the Triumphal Arch of Drusus, 
under the eastern brow of the Palatine Hill, around 
the Colosseum and the Forum, and back to my hotel 
on the Viminal Hill. 

At nine forty-five I bade good-by to the Eternal 
City and boarded a train, at a railway station not far 
from the old Praetorian Camp. Travel by rail in 
Europe is not quite the same as in America. The 
railroads over there, do not differ from ours, except 
that, as a rule, they are more thoroughly built, are 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 150 

straighter — running through hills by tunnels instead 
of around them by sharp curves — and sometimes 
have iron ties. But their rolling stock is very 
peculiar. The locomotives are much smaller than 
ours ; their shape is very inartistic and odd ; they 
have no cab for the protection of the engineer and 
fireman; and they are destitute of cow-catcher and 
bell. The coaches over there are the queerest things. 
I presume most of you know about them, and yet a 
description will do no harm. They are much shorter 
than ours, and some narrower and lower. Externally 
they are shaped and painted so as to look as much 
as possible like a lot of stage-coaches stuck together. 
They have but four wheels apiece. They have no 
doors, or windows, in the ends. Each car is cut up 
into about five compartments, or rooms, by solid 
partitions running across. Each compartment has 
two seats facing each other, running across the car, 
about two feet apart. Each compartment has also 
two doors, one on each side of the car, opening out- 
ward, with a window on each side of each door. The 
upper half of the door is also a window. The six 
windows all slide up and down, by means of long 
leather straps. There is no ventilation, execpt what 
the windows afford. Into one of these compartments 
you are securely locked, as though the railroad 
officials were afraid you would jump out and run 
away. You are liable to be one of ten passengers, 
wedged in so that you cannot move, exposed to the 
peril of filthy clothing, bad breaths, too much or too 
little ventilation, contagious diseases and even rob- 
bery and murder. There are some American palace 
and sleeping cars in Europe ; but I never rode on a 
train which contained one of them. The British rail- 



160 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

roads generally make better time than ours ; the 
Continental not so good. 

The night I left Rome, I had the good fortune to 
have clean and respectable traveling companions. 
They were an Italian family of three — father, mother 
and little boy — and a solitary Italian gentleman. As 
there were five of us, we had a little more than three feet 
apiece, in which to stretch ourselves out. As I am 
five feet and nine inches long, it was impossible for 
me to get myself into a horizontal position. Conse- 
quently I got but little sleep, and what I did get was 
very poor. The night was very long ; and I was very 
glad when morning came. 

I was busy with my thoughts nearly all the night. 
I thought how strange it is to be riding behind an 
iron horse, with heart of fire and breath of steam, at 
the rate of twenty-five miles an hour, where Etruscan, 
and Roman, and Carthaginian, and Gallic, and Gothic, 
and French, and Spanish armies used to drag them- 
selves slowly along. It took Julius Caesar many 
months, and even years, to get from Rome to Eng- 
land, with his army, through dense forests, and dis- 
mal swamps, and trackless wastes, and savage tribes ; 
while I expect to make the distance in forty-three 
hours, through populous cities, and smiling gardens, 
and blushing vineyards and every evidence of the high- 
est cultivation. 

What, I asked myself, has wrought this wondrous 
change ? I do not know how you would answer that 
question. But the only answer which I could find 
was : the religion of Jesus Christ has changed Europe 
from a wilderness to a garden, and has transformed 
its scattered tribes of filthy savages into dense popu- 
lations of artists, poets, philosophers, merchants, 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 161 

bankers, and honest, peaceful, happy artizans and 
tillers of the soil. The people of Europe still suffer 
from many political and moral evils ; but every one of 
these would disappear, if all classes and individuals 
would receive the gospel of Christ, in all its fullness, 
into their hearts. Then I thought of my dear native 
land. Our ancestors, a few generations ago, were 
half-naked, beastly savages, roaming through the 
forests of northern Europe, till Christian missionaries 
came among them and told them of Jesus, who died 
to make all men happy and good. Because they 
embraced Christianity, we are what we are. There are 
many relics of barbarism and corruption from which 
Christian America still needs to be cleansed. But 
not one of them would exist, if every American were 
thoroughly imbued with the principles of the Christian 
religion. 

At four forty Friday morning our train stopped in 
the city of Pisa. I regretted very much that I had 
not time to look through the city and see its wonders. 
But I do not know why I may not tell you something 
about the place. It is a very old town, of about fifty- 
four thousand inhabitants, situated on the River Arno, 
seven miles from the sea. It is surrounded by an 
extremely fertile and beautiful plain, the salubrity of 
whose climate, draws invalids from all parts of the 
world. It has a cathedral eight hundred years old ; 
a noted art gallery ; a university, in which Galileo, 
the inventor of the clock, the microscope, the ther- 
mometer and the telescope, was a student three hun- 
dred years ago; a famous baptistery; a leaning tower ; 
and many other curious things. The Leaning Tower 
is its best-known attraction. It is 183 feet in height, 
fifty in diameter and leans out of the perpendicular 



162 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

thirteen feet. Whether it was built to lean, or has 
assumed that position since its erection, no one can 
tell. 

At Pisa the solitary Italian gentleman left the 
compartment in which I was riding, and a priest, a 
large portly man, took his place. These priests 
attract the tourist's attention, wherever he goes on 
the continent of Europe. They are seen in great 
numbers, in all public places, especially in Italy. 
They are known by their dress. Unless they belong 
to some order of monks, they wear the same uniform 
— a long, black robe reaching to the feet, closely 
buttoned, and a rough, black, broad-brimmed, round- 
topped hat. The ministerial brother, who became 
my traveling companion, had a kindly, intelligent face, 
and, had his language and mine been the same, I 
think we should have fallen into conversation. He 
sat directly opposite to me, and, taking out his Latin 
breviary, or prayer-book, began to read. Soon he 
added another occupation — the taking of snuff. From 
that time on, for several hours, he took a good heavy 
pinch every fifteen or twenty minutes. I have been 
told that the Catholic clergy in Europe are forbidden, 
by ecclesiastical law, to smoke, or chew, tobacco, but 
are allowed to use it in the form of snuff. 

It seems to me that, if a man feels compelled to 
use tobacco, snuffing it is the least objectionable 
mode, so far as the comfort of other people is 
concerned. If a gentleman smokes in the presence 
of ladies, there is the smoke to choke them. If he 
chews, there is the spittle to nauseate them. But if 
he puts the poisonous weed into his nose, he does not 
greatly injure any one but himself. 

That clergyman on the cars, between Pisa and 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 103 

Genoa, gave me a lesson to bring home to the tobacco- 
using gentlemen of Medina. It is this: When your 
health requires you to use tobacco on the street, or 
on the platform of a horse-car, or in the post-office 
or in a place of entertainment, remember that people 
who do not use tobacco have rights as well as your- 
self, and snuff your weed instead of smoking or 
chewing it. Imagine a gentleman, walking the 
street, puffing a cigar in the face of a wind which 
carries his smoke directly into the teeth of a lady 
walking behind. Can a gentleman do such a thing 
as that ? Many, who are considered gentlemen, do. 
The Methodist Episcopal Church has advanced 
beyond the Catholic Church of Italy, and has made 
a law that no man shall be admitted to her ministry 
who will not take a vow to wholly abstain from the 
use of tobacco. 

Nearly all the way from Pisa to Genoa the rail- 
road runs along close to the sea, and for most of the 
distance is cut into, or through, the solid rocks which 
line the shore. More than half of the time we were 
in tunnels. We would run in total darkness for ten 
or fifteen minutes ; then flash out into the light and see 
the beautiful blue Mediterranean, flecked with white- 
winged ships ; and then plunge again into midnight 
blackness. It was a strange experience. 

I said to myself : Such is our earthly life. It is 
made up, almost from the cradle to the grave, of 
alternate day and darkness, light and shadow. 
For a while everything goes well with us ; the sun of 
worldly prosperity shines in a cloudless sky ; the 
argosies of pleasure bring us every blessing over seas 
of liquid silver, rippled with burnished gold ; we 
think we would like to live in such a world forever 



164 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

Then, without a moment's warning, we are plunged 
into a black, smoking tunnel of disease, or poverty, 
or bereavement, and we cry out in an agony of 
terror, and wish we could die. But we hold on to 
life and to God, and ere long we are in the bright 
light again. Bright days come and go, till we begin 
to think they will continue to the end, when, sud- 
denly, we are in the midst of another sorrow blacker, 
if possible, than the first. And so it will be till the 
day when we shall step off the train of divine provi- 
dence in the City of eternal brightness and glory. 

Why is this so ? Why is our course through earth 
to heaven like the tourist's route from Pisa to Genoa? 
There are two reasons : first, it must be so ; such is 
the nature of the country through which our journey 
lies. Second, God is an artist ; each human life is a 
picture, which he is painting for our eternal enjoy- 
ment ; and every picture necessarily consists of 
blended light and shade. 

About the middle of the forenoon we reached 
Genoa, whence I had sailed for Naples three weeks 
before. At one o'clock iri the afternoon we were in 
Turin, four hundred miles from Rome. There I had 
to change cars, and wait about an hour. I had a 
strong desire to see the city, but could not stop. 
Turin, called Torino by the Italians, is a beautiful 
city of two hundred thousand inhabitants. It con- 
tains many splendid churches ; a magnificent palace, 
once the residence of Victor Emmanuel and his prede- 
cessors, the kings of Sardinia ; numerous works of 
art ; and many large manufacturing establishments. 
Without taking time to allude to any other, I will say 
that there is one factory which employs 450 laborers 
in producing nine million matches per day. 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 105 

While waiting at the rail-way station in Turin, I 
picked up an Italian newspaper containing an illus- 
trated account of the execution, by electricity, of 
Keniler, at Auburn, N. Y. I never studied Italian, 
but [ could make out a good part of the article. 

On leaving Turin, I fell in with a young English 
gentleman going to London, and found him a very 
pleasant companion all the rest of the way. Soon 
aftei starting we were among the mountains — the 
Italian Alps. They kept getting larger and grander, 
and we kept climbing higher and higher. By and by 
I could see peaks whose summits were streaked 
with snow. We passed numerous Alpine villages, 
and saw many peasants at work in the fields or driv- 
ing cows or goats along the roads. We threaded 
numerous tunnels and thundered along the edge of 
awful precipices. At twenty-five minutes past five 
o'c.ock we plunged straight into the face of the 
mountain, and were in darkness just twenty-seven 
minutes. We were in the Mount Cenis Tunnel, which 
was begun in 1857 and finished in 1870, at a cost of 
fif:een million dollars. It is eight miles long. It is 
a marvel of engineering skill and perseverance. The 
passage was dark and disagreeable. It seemed long, 
and much longer than it was. But I had no doubt 
that it would end ; that there was lisrht ahead ; that 
having left the kingdom of Italy behind, I should 
soon be in the Republic of France. And so it was. 
Suddenly the darkness was past and I was in the 
nidst of glorious day. 

That tunnel seems to me to represent death. Some 
persons, infidels, say that death ends all ; that there 
is no life beyond the tomb ; that this black sooty 
tunnel, which runs into the mountain, never comes 



166 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

out. Faith says : " Beyond death is unending exist- 
ence. This tunnel leads to the kingdom of eternal 
day." My friend, which statement seems the most 
probable? You see the tunnel of death right before 
you. You have seen hundreds of trains go in. Is it 
reasonable to suppose that not one of their has 
ever come out on the other side? I tell you na\. 
To the Christian, death is the gate to endless joy. 
If you will get on board the gospel train, you will be 
delivered from the fear of death. When the cars 
dash into the tunnel, there will be one short pang — 
and then the brightness, and glory, and bliss of 
heaven for ever and ever. 

A few minutes after leaving the tunnel we were at 
the French town of Modena, and had to have our 
baggage examined by the custom-house officals. 
Ere long darkness came down upon us. There vere 
just four men of us in our compartment, and we had 
room to lie at full length, so that I slept pretty well. 
When morning came, we were flying through :he 
smiling fields of beautiful France, where everybody 
was busy gathering in the wheat. At five minutes 
past seven we were in Paris, 950 miles from Rome 

After a little delay, and a change of cars, we started 
for Calais. Through a pleasant country, many villages 
and the city of Amiens, we rode 167 miles to that 
famous town. For more than two hundred years 
Calais belonged to the English. It was re-taken by 
the French during the reign of Queen Mary, who, 
when she heard of its capture, was so overcome with 
grief, that she declared that, if her heart should be 
examined after death, the name of her beautiful 
Calais would be found written thereon. 
.Immediately we went on board a steamboat to cross 



FROM ROME TO LONDON. 107 

the Strait of Dover. We were two hours and twenty 
minutes in making the passage of twenty-one miles. 
The sea was rough, and the boat was small and mean. 
I mirht have been sea-sick, but for the fact that I 
stretched myself upon a couch in the cabin, and slept 
all the way over. In due time I was on the cars at 
Dover. 

A pleasant run of seventy miles, through Chatham 
and Canterbury, and the intervening villages and 
country, brought me to London at fifteen minutes 
past seven, two hours late. 

It was Saturday night. I was a total stranger in 
the largest city in the world. But I was in the land 
of my ancestors, where I could hear my mother- 
tongue, and so I felt perfectly at home. I thanked 
God, from the depths of my heart, that my long 
journey of eleven hundred and fourteen miles was at 
an end, and that I was where I could rest, free from 
all danger of the Italian fever. 

Something like that, only infinitely more delightful, 
will be the emotions of the weary pilgrim, when the 
journey of this mortal life is over and his feet press 
the golden pavement of the capital of the universe. 
He will not feel like a stranger. The countless 
millions of angels and redeemed human spirits, whom 
he meets, will seem to him as familiar friends, because 
the language which they speak will be the language 
which he learned in the Church on earth. They will 
hail him : "Brother!" Through their shining ranks 
he will make his way to the Father's house, the 
palace of God ; and Jesus, his adorable Lord, who 
bore his sins on the cross and cleansed him from all 
unrighteousness, will conduct him to the mansion 
which infinite wisdom and love have long been 
preparing as his everlasting habitation. 



168 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 



LONDON. 

" Now Nineveh was an exceeding great city of three days' 
journey."— Jonah iii, 3. 

These words seem to mean that Nineveh was so 
large that it would take a man three days to walk 
around it. The same statement could be truthfully 
made of the city of London. London is an exceeding 
great city of three days' journey. In the area which 
it covers it is smaller than old Nineveh was, and still 
smaller than ancient Babylon. But, in population, it 
is probably the largest city on which the sun ever 
shone. When the last census was taken, in i88r, it 
had 3,814,571 inhabitants. Its present population is 
variously estimated at from five to seven millions. It 
is the political capital, and commercial and financial 
center, of Great Britain, and of an empire which 
covers more than eight million square miles of 
territory and includes two hundred and sixty millions 
of inhabitants. 

London derives it greatness from England and the 
English. With all their faults and sins, England is a 
wonderful country, and the English are a wonderful 
people. England proper is a portion of a rock-bound 
island, only a little larger than the State of New 
York. And yet, beginning, six hundred years ago, 
with half the present population and a small fraction 



LONDON. 



icy 



of the wealth of our Empire State, she has stretched 
her boundaries and extended her conquests and 
multiplied her power, till now she rules one-seventh 
of the entire territory and one sixth of the population 
of the globe. In territory, in population, in commerce, 
in wealth and in military resources and prowess, 
England (I now use that word to include everything 
over which floats the English flag) is the mightiest 
empire that has ever existed. 

We can hardly help asking the question : " What 
is the secret of England's greatness? " An African 
princ£, many years ago, sent an embassy to the 
court of St. James, to put that question to Queen 
Victoria. The queen did not bring out her jewels, or 
display her ships and armies and munitions of war. 
But, handing the embassador a beautifully bound copy 
of the Bible, she said : " Tell you master that this is 
the secret of England's greatness." England is great 
chiefly because she is a Christian nation, and because 
her Christianity is of that type which permits, and 
commands, the reading of the Bible by the common 
people. There is a great deal of wickedness in Eng- 
land, and the English government, managed by 
wicked men, has committed many political crimes ; 
but the masses of the English people are Christians, 
and their hearts are imbued with the principles of 
the gospel. 

London is a great and wonderful city, because it is 
the capital of England and of the British Empire. 
London is situated on both sides of the River Thames, 
about sixty miles from its mouth. In its winding 
course through the city, the width of the river varies 
from seven hundred to twelve hundred feet. For a 
long distance, it is confined by embankments of solid 



170 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEE 

masonry ; and it is spanned by a great number of 
magnificent bridges, of which the most important are 
London Bridge, Waterloo, Westminster and Black - 
friars. Several tunnels under the river connect the 
two banks. The oldest and largest of these is twelve 
hundred feet long, and has two arched passages, 
fourteen feet wide and sixteen high, separated by a 
brick wall four feet thick. By far the larger and 
better part of London is on the left', or northern, bank 
of the river. 

Before the Romans conquered Britain, London was 
nothing but a collection of huts, on a dry spot in the 
midst of a marsh, surrounded by a ditch and a ram- 
part of earth. The Romans built a stone wall around 
the place, inclosing a space one mile long and half a 
mile wide, and called it Londinium. Portions of that 
old wall are standing to-day, after the lapse of fifteen 
hundred years. 

After the Romans came the Anglo-Saxon king- 
dom, and London, as its capital, grew in size and 
importance. Under William, the first of the Norman 
kings, it had a population of forty thousand souls. 
During the succeeding six hundred years, with many 
fires and famines and pestilences and riots, never- 
theless, it enjoyed a large and substantial growth. In 
1664 it was turned into a city of mourning and woe 
by the ravages of the Great Plague, by which it lost 
one hundred thousand citizens. Treading closely on 
the heels of the plague, came the Great Fire, which 
destroyed thirteen thousand houses, in September, 
1666. But the fire was really a blessing ; for it burned 
up the germs of the plague, and prepared the way for 
the re-building of the city in much better form and 
style. 



LONDON. 171 

It was not, however, till the reign of Queen Anne 
that London began to put on its present appearance. 
Since then, and from a population of seven hundred 
thousand, it has steadily and rapidly grown to its 
present enormous proportions and extraordinary 
splendor. Its populations has almost exactly doubled 
within the last forty years, and within the same period 
about two thousand miles of new streets have been 
constructed. 

There are in London more Scotchmen than in Edin- 
burgh, more Irish than in Dublin, more Jews than in 
Palestine, and more Roman Catholics than in Rome. 

The people of London eat, every year, ten million 
bushels of wheat, four hundred thousand oxen, one 
and a half million sheep, quarter of a million swine, 
one hundred and thirty thousand calves and four 
hundred million pounds of fish, besides enormous 
quantities of other kinds of food, washing it all down 
with two hundred and nineteen million quarts of 
alcoholic liquors. The total value of the trade of this 
great metropolis of the world amounts to one thou- 
sand million dollars a year. 

The principal streets of London are paved in the 
most perfect manner, and are kept clean by labor per- 
formed every minute in every day except Sunday, but 
are not yet furnished with electric lights. The public 
buildings are large and magnificent. The private 
edifices are less stately and beautiful than those of 
our largest American cities. The police is the best in 
the world. 

London consists of ten independent boroughs, or 
corporations, each of which is a city by itself. They 
are the city proper — the old city presided over by the 
Lord Mayor — Chelsea, Finsbury, Greenwich, Hack- 



173 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEE 

ney, Lambeth, Marylebone, Southwark, Tower Ham- 
lets and Westminster. 

I established myself in the old city, on Giltspur 
St., at the Queen's Hotel. It was a most excellent 
starting point from which to visit and view the places 
which I had come to see. Within half a mile of my 
bed and board were St. Paul's Cathedral, the Bank of 
London, the Mansion House, 'Guildhall, the General 
Post Office, Smithfield, Charterhouse, Temple Bar 
and Blackfriars Bridge. 

I arrived in London Saturday night. Therefore 
the first place to which I went was the house of God. 
In the greatest of cities there are fourteen hundred 
churches, of which eight hundred are Episcopal one 
hundred and fifty Methodists, one hundred and thirty 
Baptists, fifty Catholic and two hundred and seventy 
Congregational and Independent. 

Of all the great preachers in London, the one whom 
5 1 most wished to hear was the Rev. Charles H. 
Spurgeon. Accordingly, in company with an Ameri- 
can gentleman whom I found at the hotel, I went 
directly south a little less than half a mile, crossed 
the Thames and went a mile south on the other side. 
That brought us to a part of the city called Newing- 
ton Butts, where, near an inn named the " Elephant 
and Castle," we fell in with a dense crowd moving 
toward a large, plain, brick building. Entering, we 
found ourselves in the Tabernacle, the largest Baptist 
church in the world. 

The auditorium is an immense and grand, but some- 
what dingy, room, oval in shape, with vaulted ceiling 
supported by iron columns, and with two galleries 
running entirely around. The pulpit platform pro- 
jects out into the room from the first gallery. The 



LONDON. 173 

place is so perfect in its acoustic conditions that a 
voice in the pulpit can be distinctly heard in every 
pew. The guide book says that there are seats for six 
thousand persons. One of the ushers told me that 
there was room for seven thousand. 

Although it was raining very hard, when we went 
in, there must have been five or six thousand people 
present. A seat was given us on the main floor, about 
one-third of the distance from the door to the pulpit. 
As I glanced around, I said to myself : This does 
not compare at ail with the cathedrals which I have 
been visiting in Belgium and France and Italy. What 
St. Peter's at Rome cost would build two hundred 
churches like this. I see no polished marbles, no 
golden candelabra, no rich mosaics, no tombs of 
saints, no statues, no pictures, no altar, no organ. The 
place seemed bare and cold and dreary. But I soon 
became sure that God was there, as I had not felt his 
presence in any other house of worship since I left my 
native land, and I thought : What does the Almighty 
care for the place where we worship him, if only our 
hearts are honest and pure. 

When we went in the great preacher was in his pul- 
pit, where he had stood for thirty years, reading and 
expounding the third chapter of the Gospel of John. 
Next a hymn was sung, the minister standing to read 
the first stanza, and sitting to read each succeed- 
ing one separately. Then he prayed — a prayer of 
great simplicity and childlike faith, which lifted us all 
nearer to God. He prayed especially that no one 
might go out from that service unsaved. The second 
hymn followed the prayer. There was no choir and 
no instrument. A man stood on the platform with 
Mr. Spurgeon and acted as leader, and all the people 



174 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

sung. The singing was like the voice of many 
waters. 

The sermon was based on John in 133: " He 
that hath received his testimony hath set to his seal 
that God is true," and was just fifty minutes long. It 
was simple, earnest, spiritual. It was full of the most 
pathetic appeals and warnings to sinners to repent 
and give their hearts to God. He did not confine 
himself to the text, but made much of the last verse 
of the chapter : " He that believeth on the Son hath 
everlasting life : and that he believeth not the Son 
shall not see life ; but the wrath of God abideth on 
him." Again and again he thundered out those 
solemn words : " The wrath of God abideth on him." 
He told his hearers plainly that if they did not believe 
in Christ they would go to hell and suffer there for- 
ever. That great preacher believes in hell as well as 
in heaven ; and when he means hell, he is not afraid 
to use that word. All the great preachers of the 
ages — all who have had eminent success in winning 
souls and building up truth and righteousness — have 
been firm believers in the doctrine of eternal punish- 
ment, and have boldly and constantly preached that 
doctrine. 

Mr. Spurgeon's wonderful power and success lie in 
the fact that he can see men hanging on the crumb- 
ling edge of the " Lake of Fire," and his great lov- 
ing heart, filled with the Divine Spirit, will not let him 
rest, or hold his peace, so long as there is one whom 
he can reach and save. In thirty years he has received 
twenty thousand persons into his church ; educated 
hundreds of ministers, in his training college ; built 
thirty-six chapels in different parts of London ; 
founded and endowed a large orphan asylum ; edited 



LONDON. 175 

an influential religious paper ; and written and pub- 
lished many valuable books, which have had a world- 
wide circulation. 

Monday morning, August n, with my American 
friend, I started for the Tower of London. The dis- 
tance was about a mile and a half. We walked, going 
most of the way along the river' bank, on the north 
side, down toward the mouth. On the way we passed 
through the Billingsgate Fish Market. On account 
of the vile language which the fish-women there used 
to employ, the word billingsgate has come to mean 
"foul or profane language." That is Webster's 
definition of the term. The talk of the fish-wives is 
not so rank as it was in the olden times ; but I do 
not believe that the smell of the place has much 
improved. 

In due time we were at the Tower. This is per- 
haps the most interesting and widely known of all 
the buildings of London. It consists of a bewilder- 
ing mass of towers, forts, batteries, ramparts, bar- 
racks and store-houses, covering an area of thirteen 
acres. The oldest part of the building is the White 
Tower, built by William the Conqueror, eight hun- 
dred years ago. At first it was a royal residence ; 
then it was a state prison ; now it is an arsenal, a 
fortress and a museum. As a prison, it is identified 
with the most thrilling portions of English history. 
No one, who has read that history, can walk through 
its gloomy apartments without shuddering, as he 
recalls its dark and bloody memories. Here scores 
of the purest and noblest of England's sons and 
daughters have groaned away their lives in horrible 
captivity, or poured out their blood on the reeking 
scaffold. If dead matter could be endowed with 



176 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

sight and hearing and memory and speech, it seems 
to me that every separate stone and brick, in these 
grim and frowning walls, would utter a wail of sym- 
pathetic terror and agony which would be heard in 
every house in London. 

We went in through the Lion's Gate. We saw the 
Traitor's Gate leading up from the Thames, through 
which persons accused of treason used to be conducted, 
having been brought thither by boat. 

We saw the Bloody Tower. Every tower in this 
old pile is bloody ; but this one deserves the name 
more than all its fellows. Do you know the story ? 
Richard Plantagenet wanted to be king of England. 
His brother, Edward the Fourth, was king, and had 
two little sons, one of whom, by law, would be his 
successor. When Edward died Richard was made 
protector of the little princes, till the older one 
should be of age. Richard said to himself : " If 
these boys were out of the way, I should be king of 
England." So he had them shut up in the Tower, 
and one night, when the little innocents were soundly 
sleeping in their bed, locked in each other's arms, a 
heartless minion of their cruel uncle stole in and 
smothered them with pillows. Twenty years after, 
their bones were found, in an old chest, under the 
stairs of the White Tower, and were buried in West- 
minster Abbey. Ever since, the tower where they 
were murdered, by their uncle's orders, has been 
Called the Bloody Tower. 

Richard seized the coveted crown ; but, after the 
murder of his nephews, he never had a night of peace- 
ful sleep. He had horrid dreams which tormented 
him beyond endurance. He would frequently jump 
out of his bed in the dead of night, seize his sword 



LONDON. 17? 

which he always kept near his pillow, and run round 
the room, striking at imaginary ghosts and devils and 
howling in an agony of terror. That was remorse. 
That infamous king was having a foretaste of the 
torments of hell, into which he entered, about two 
years after he began his usurped reign, from the bat- 
tle field of Bosworth, where he lost his life. Con- 
science is a stern judge and a relentless executioner. 

We went through the White Tower. Here, on the 
first floor, Sir Walter Raleigh was confined thirteen 
years, for no crime at all, and here he wrote his 
History of the World. Going up the stairs we were in 
the Chapel of St. John, built in the old Norman style, 
where pretended followers of the gentle Jesus used 
to come to worship God, with murder in their hearts 
and their fingers dripping with innocent blood. 

Beyond the chapel we entered the Banqueting 
Hall, once the scene of royal feasting, now the rest- 
ing place of old cannon, its walls and ceiling adorned 
with trophies of arms, skillfully arranged in the form 
of stars, flowers, shields and other similar figures. On 
the third floor is the old Council Chamber, where 
many a dark and bloody deed has been contrived, 
now converted into an armory, or museum of arms. 

Imagine to yourselves a room, about fifty feet wide 
and one hundred feet long. The floor, the walls, the 
ceiling all are stone. Here is displayed almost every 
kind of deadly weapon ever used in ancient, mediaeval 
or modern times. Down through the middle runs a 
broad aisle, bounded by two fences in which the 
pickets are swords and the rails are chains of pistols. 
Beyond the fences are glass cases filled with various 
small objects of interest. Between the cases are 
stands of arms and instruments of torture and execu- 



178 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

tion. Among these we saw a block, on which they 
used to chop off human heads, and, leaning against 
it, a beheading axe. On the block we could see the 
marks of the axe and stains of blood. 

Beyond each row of cases is another fence of 
swords and pistols ; and, beyond the second fence, 
along either wall, is a row of wooden horses, which 
look just like horses of flesh and blood. On each 
horse is the image of a man clad in complete armor. 
Each suit of armor represents some particular period 
in the history of the art of human butchery. Each 
martial figure represents the king, or knight, who 
wore that particular suit in battle or tournament or 
parade. Most of the armor is of the most perfect 
finish. Some suits are plated all over with shining 
silver ; others are inlaid with rich enamel and bur- 
nished gold. Interspersed among the horsemen are 
mail-clad footmen, bearing aloft in their gauntleted 
hands, spears and pole-axes and halberts. The scene 
looks like reality. It seems as though we were about 
to be crushed between two opposing lines of charg- 
ing warriors. 

We do not care to linger long in such a place. I 
left the Tower Armory with a horrible realization of 
the fact that man's chief occupation for six thousand 
years has been the shedding of human blood. Who, 
I asked myself, have been the great men of history ? 
I am compelled to answer : chiefly those who have 
surpassed their fellows in their skill to inflict torture 
and death on their fellow men. All history, down to 
recent times, is a sickening recital of carnage, massa- 
cre and rapine. I do not understand how any man 
can read history and say : "I do not believe in the 
the doctrine of human depravity." I left that cham- 



LONDON. 179 

ber of death hating war, as I never had before, thank- 
ing God that more peaceful times have dawned upon 
the nations, and earnestly praying for the coming of 
those days, so long foretold, when " nation shall not 
lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn 
war any more." 

Crossing an open space to the west, we entered 
Beauchamp Tower, where the victims of royal hate 
and cruelty used to be confined before they were 
brought to the block. The interior walls are adorned 
with inscriptions, in which the unhappy and hopeless 
prisoners poured out their longings and their despair. 
Here is one over the fire-place : '• The more suffering 
for Christ in this world, the more glory with Christ in 
the next." The man who carved that was imprisoned 
and beheaded for wishing to marry a certain lady, 
when Queen Elizabeth wished him to marry another 
lady, or not to marry at all. In the north-west cor- 
ner is the single word " Jane," repeated in the window. 
It represents the gentle and accomplished young Lady 
Jane Gray, whose head was hacked off by command 
of Queen Mary, because one of the political parties 
had sought to make her queen after the death of Mary's 
predecessor. 

In the open court, a little north of Beauchamp 
Tower, a stone in the pavement marks the spot where 
executions used to take place. Here Anne Boleyn, 
the wife and queen of Henry VIII., stood on the 
scaffold with bowed head while the executioner of Calais 
divided her slender neck with one blow of his heavy 
sword. Catharine, the fifth wife of the same old 
monster of cruelty, met her fate in the same manner. 

Everywhere I went in England, in every palace and 
gallery and museum, I saw the portrait of that combi- 



180 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

nation of hog, hyena and tiger, Henry VIII. I 
was righteously angry whenever I saw it. If ever 
the British people are wholly cured of their national 
brutality, they will tear those pictures down. 

Henry's first wife was Catharine of Aragon. Grow- 
ing tired of her, because she was not handsome and 
was older than himself, and falling in love with another 
woman, he applied to the pope for a divorce. Being 
refused he seceded from the Catholic Church, com- 
pelled his subjects to do the same, organized the 
Church of England, made himself the Pope of Eng- 
land, granted himself a divorce and married Anne 
Boleyn. He soon tired of her, and had her executed 
on a charge of adultery and treason. 

On the nineteenth of May, 1533, Anne Boleyn went 
to the Tower, as England's queen, in a barge on the 
river Thames, surrounded by fifty other barges, all 
blazing with gold and banners ; and on the nineteenth 
of May, 1536, in the same Tower, she lost her head. 
The next day the happy widower married his new 
love, Jane Seymour, who escaped the axe by dying in 
her bed one year after her wedding. Henry's fourth 
wife was Anne of Cleves. He got sick of her the first 
day. Not daring to cut off her head, because she was 
the daughter of a foreign prince, he divorced her six 
months after the marriage. The same year he 'mar- 
ried Catharine Howard. He let her live five years. 
Then he snapped his fingers, and off flew her head. 
His sixth and last wife was Catharine Parr, who had 
the unspeakable happiness of attending the funeral 
of the royal brute whom she had been compelled to 
call husband. 

I was very anxious to see the interior of St. Peter's 
Church which stands within the inclosure of the 



LONDON. 181 

Tower, just north of the old beheading place. So I 
aprroached one of the fantastically uniformed guards, 
called " Beef-eaters," and asked him if I could go in. 
He answered " No." He assured me in the most 
positive terms that no visitor was ever allowed there. 
I turned away, but soon returned with the same 
request, at the same time showing a shining English 
shilling. Immediately his stern countenance relaxed, 
and, with the greatest suavity, he led me into St. 
Peter's and explained everything that I wished to see. 
In the land of our forefathers money has wonderful 
power. 

St. Peter's contains the tombs of thirty-five victims 
of royal cruelty, who died by axe or poison or exhaust- 
ing imprisonment. Of the place Lord Macauley says 
in his History of England : " Thither have been car- 
ried through successive ages, by the rude hands of 
gaolers, without one mourner following, the bleeding 
relics of men who have been the captains of armies, 
the leaders of parties, the oracles of senates and the 
ornaments of courts. In truth, there is no sadder 
spot on earth than this little cemetery," 

As I stood among those graves, I said to myself : 
How could human beings be so cruel ? I want to 
tell you something, which perhaps you do not know. 
Our ancestors were terribly brutal. Our Anglo-Saxon 
race has many good qualities ; but, unrestrained by 
the humanizing influences of the Christian religion, 
it is coarse and beastly and cruel. Naturally it is 
strongly inclined to drunkenness and selfish ambition 
and ruthless cruelty. It is far less mild and gentle 
than some of the races which we deem inferior. We 
see frequent outbursts of these ingrained qualities, 
even in this age and this land. If you ask what I 



182 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

mean, I point you to our treatment of the Indians, 
the Negroes and the Chinese, and to the criminal 
records of our public journals. To keep down and 
cast out this Anglo-Saxon devil, which has made Eng- 
lish history so awfully bloody, we need, as a nation 
and as individuals, the mighty sanctifying power of 
the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

I fear you have not enjoyed our visit to the Tower 
of London, with the blood-curdling memories which 
it has awakened. Come with me and I will show you 
something beautiful, before we leave the dismal old 
fortress-prison. Near bloody Tower, in Wakefield 
Tower, in a glass, under a double iron cage, are the 
splendid objects which compose the Regalia of Eng- 
land, or the Crown Jewels, as they are generally called. 
They consist of crowns, scepters, and other things 
worn or carried at the coronation ceremony ; sacred 
vessels used in Westminster Abbey on the same occa- 
sion ; the gold table plate used at the coronation ban- 
quet ; and a set of the insignia of the various British 
Orders of Knighthood. 

The crown of Queen Victoria occupies the high- 
est place in the case. It was used at her coronation 
in 1838. It is gorgeous and magnificent in the 
extreme. It weighs three pounds and a half. The 
circlet consists of a gold band, surrounding a crim- 
son velvet cap bordered with ermine. The band 
supports four golden branches, which, meeting in the 
center, form two arches, from which rises a mound of 
diamonds, over which is the cross, also composed of 
diamonds, with a magnificent sapphire in the center. 
Round the band or circlet, and alternating with the 
springing of the arches, rise four fleurs-de-lis, com- 
posed of brilliants. The arches rise from four crosses, 



LONDON. 183 

each of which is completely covered with diamonds 
and other precious stones. The circlet, or band? 
which forms the base of the crown, is edged above 
and below with pearls. I cannot describe th'is most 
perfect specimen of the jeweler's art. I will merely 
add that it contains five rubies, eleven emeralds? 
seventeen sapphires, 277 pearls, and 2,783 diamonds. 

As I stood gazing at that crown, almost paralyzed 
with wonder, I remembered the words of Jesus to me 
and to every disciple : " Be thou faithful unto death, 
and I will give thee a crown of life ; " and I said to 
myself : If I am true to my divine Master, and 
hold out to the end, after the toil and care of this 
life are over, God will place op. my head a crown as 
much more glorious than that as the unclouded noon- 
day sun is brighter than the tiniest glow-worm's 
spark. A crown of gold and precious stones is 
nothing compared with a crown of eternal life. Be 
thou faithful unto death, and, Christ will give thee 
a crown of life. 

Besides the crown which I have so poorly 
described, the Regalia of England contains the 
Prince of Wales' Crown ; the Queen Consort's 
Crown ; the Queen's Crown ; St. Edward's Crown ; 
St. Edward's staff (which contains ninety pounds of 
gold) ; the Royal Sceptre ; the Sceptre of the Dove; 
Queen Victoria's Sceptre ; the Ivory Sceptre ; the 
Sceptre of Queen Mary ; the Orbs of the King and 
Queen ; the pointless Sword of Mercy ; the Swords 
of Justice ; the Coronation Bracelets ; the Royal 
Spurs ; the Coronation Oil Vessel in the form of an 
eagle ; the Anointing Spoon ; the Salt Cellar of 
State, in the form of a model of the White Tower ; 
the Baptismal Font for the royal children ; the Wine 



184 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

Fountain ; and the Insignia of the Orders of the 
Bath, Garter, Thistle, St. Michael and St. George 
and Star of India. All these are made of the most 
costly materials and the finest workmanship. The 
total value of the Regalia is estimated at fifteen 
million dollars. 

From the Tower we went down to the river and 
took a steam-boat for Chelsea, a portion of the city 
five or six miles up the stream. If you will take your 
stand with me on the deck of the boat, I will point 
out some of the objects of interest. The general 
course is west. On our right is the north. Now we 
are passing under London Bridge. Down to one 
century ago this was the only bridge across the 
Thames. It is nine hundred and twenty eight feet 
long. It is borne by five granite arches, of which 
the central one has a span of one hundred and fifty- 
two feet. It is estimated that 15,000 vehicles and 
too, 000 pedestrians cross it every day. It cost ten 
million dollars. 

Now we are under Southwark Bridge. It consists of 
three iron arches, on stone piers. It cost four 
million dollars. Over there, quarter of a mile up 
from the Bank, is St. Paul's Cathedral, the grandest 
building in London, dedicated one. hundred and 
eighty years ago. I hope we can visit it before we 
leave the city. 

Now we are right under the Blackfriars Bridge. It 
is built of iron and is 1,272 feet long. It derives its 
name from an ancient monastry of the Black Friars, 
or Monks, which used to stand here on the river's 
bank. Straight down there, south, two miles, is 
Spurgeon's Tabernacle. That huge building stand- 
ing right on the bank of the river is a law-school, 



LONDON. 185 

called the Temple. This building, standing almost 
at the water's edge, is an old palace, called Somerset 
House. It is now full of government offices employ- 
ing nine hundred officials. The building contains 
3,600 windows. 

This is Waterloo Bridge, one of the finest struct- 
ures of the kind in the world. It consists of nine 
arches, is 1,380 feet long and cost five million 
dollars. 

Now we are under Charing Cross Rail-Way and 
Foot Bridge. 

Another Bridge ! It is Westminster Bridge. Like 
all the others, it is substantial and elegant. We are 
between two immense buildings, which seem to rise 
right out of the water. Each presents a front of 
about one thousand feet. The one on the left, or 
south, side is St. Thomas' Hospital. The other is 
the Houses of Parliament. Just over beyond rise 
the towers of Westminster Abbey. 

Now we are gliding under Lambeth Bridge. Right 
here is Lambeth Palace, the city residence of the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury. This large six-sided building 
is Millbank Penitentiary. Just beyond is Vauxhall 
Bridge. Now it is over our heads. 

For about a mile there is nothing worth looking 
at, on either bank. Now, at almost the same instant 
we glide under the Victoria Railway Bridge and the 
elegant Chelsea Suspension Bridge, and are at Chel- 
sea. Here we will get off. 

My chief object in going to Chelsea was to hear a 
grand concert, given by four military bands com- 
bined — those of the Grenadier Guards, the House- 
hold Brigade, the Cold Stream Guards and the Scott 
Guards — led by the celebrated Dan Godfrey, the 



186 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

Gilmore of England. There were about two hun- 
dred musicians. The music was grand, overpower- 
ing, unequaled by anything of the kind that I ever 
heard before. 

An exposition was being held at Chelsea, called 
" The Royal Military Exhibition." It included every- 
thing pertaining to the military life and history of 
Great Britain. I saw every kind of warlike imple- 
ment, ever used by Englishmen ; every style of 
uniform, ever used in the British army ; pictures of 
battles ; portraits of distinguished English generals ; 
and war relics, of various kinds, too numerous to be 
mentioned. I was not greatly interested in these 
things. Since I landed on European soil I had seen 
so many soldiers (every European city swarms with 
them), so many military monuments, so many pictures 
of battles, so many instruments of death, that I was 
heartily sick of the very thought of war. 

But I saw one collection of relics which did interest 
me, and which suggested a lesson which I wish to 
repeat to you. It was the portrait, saddle, sword and 
pistol of the unfortunate Prince Imperial, the son of 
the late Emperor Napoleon III., killed in Zulu Land, 
in 1879. 

The lesson which these relics taught was the 
danger of procrastination. They were a powerful 
comment on the text : '- Behold, now is the accepted 
time ; behold, now is the day of salvation." The 
young prince to whom they belonged had joined the 
English army fighting the Zulus. One day he was 
with a squad, riding outside the camp. It was a 
dangerous situation. One of the company said : 
" Let us return. If we do not hasten, we may fall 
into the hands of the enemy." " Oh," said the 



LONDON. 187 

prince, " let us stay here tea minutes and drink our 
coffee." Before the ten minutes had passed, a com- 
pany of Zulus came upon them, and, in the skirmish, 
the prince was killed. When his mother was informed 
of the facts, in her anguish, she said : " That was his 
great mistake from babyhood. He never wanted to 
go to bed at night in time, nor to arise in the morn- 
ing. He was always pleading for ten minutes. When 
two sleepy to speak, he would lift up his two little 
hands and spread out his ten fingers, indicating that 
he wanted ten minutes more. On that account I 
sometimes called him Mr. Ten-Minutes." 

The habit of procrastination caused the death of 
that young prince. There is great danger that the 
same habit will cause the eternal death of some of 
you. For years you have intended, at some time, to 
give your heart to God and become a Christian. But 
all the time you have been saying : " Not now." 
When God has said : " Now is the acceptable time ; 
now is the day of salvation," you have said : " Not 
now. Some other time." Thus the habit of pro- 
crastination has firmly fastened upon you It is grow- 
ing stronger and stronger every day. It is almost 
second nature to you to sa3^ : " Not now ; not now." 
The longer you defer the work of repenting and 
seeking God, the harder it will be. Now is the best 
time you will ever have to commence a Christian life. 
O settle the great question of your soul's salvation 
to-night. To-morrow may be too late. " Now is 
the accepted time; now is the day of salvation." 
Do not close your eyes in sleep till you know you 
are saved. If you do not seek the Lord now, 
to-night, he may cut you off before you have another 
chance. 



188 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

In the presence of these sad relics of a promising 
young man, who lost his life through the habit of 
saying : " Not now ; wait ten minutes," I want to 
shout in your ears the words of God : " Behold, now 
is the accepted time ; behold, now is the day of sal- 
vation." 



MORE ABOUT LONDON. 189 



. . XI. 

MORE ABOUT LONDON. 

"What city is like unto this great city?''' — Revelation 
xviii, 1 8. 

I am well aware that, when the inspired prisoner 
of Patmos penned these words, his mind was not on 
the city about which I am to talk to you to-night. 
And yet I venture to take them as my text, because 
they exactly express the feeling which filled my mind 
all the time I was in the metropolis of the British 
Empire. "What city is like unto this great city?" 

London is so great that I could talk to you every 
Sabbath evening for two months, about its wonders, 
without any fear that you would lose your' interest in 
my theme. To give but one evening to the greatest 
city in the world would almost seem a sin. To give 
more than two or three at this season would not be 
wise. Therefore, you will have nothing but London 
to-night, and not much about London after to-night. 

In the immediate vicinity of my hotel were several 
points of minor interest, at which we will briefly 
glance. About five minutes' walk to the north was 
Smithfield. In old times Smithfield was an open 
common, just outside the city walls, where tourna- 
ments and fairs were held, and where executions took 
place. Subsequently, during a long period, it was 
London's only cattle-market. Now it is occupied, on 
its north side, by the Central London Meat Market, 



190 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

covering three and one-half acres, and by a market 
for poultry and provisions and fruit and vegetables, 
covering two acres more. It is worth the cost and 
time of a long journey to walk through these markets 
and see the enormous quantities of provisions which 
are exposed for sale. I had never seen anything of 
the kind which would bear a moment's comparison 
with this. Beneath the meat market is an extensive 
depot of the Great Western Railroad, to which the 
meat is brought in cars, and from which it is lifted up 
into the market by means of elevators. 

But I did not go to Smithfield to see the beef and 
pork and poultry and vegetables. In front of the 
market is a large open space, in the center of which 
is a small circular garden, with a handsome fountain. 
Right where the fountain stands, martyrs used to be 
burned at the stake, in the days of bloody Mary. 
On the opposite side of the park from the market, 
on the wall of St. Bartholomew's Hospital is a tablet 
bearing the inscription : "Within a few feet of this 
spot John Rogers, John Bradford, John Philpot and 
other servants of God suffered death by fire for 
Christ's sake in the years 1555, 1556 and 1557." 

I read that inscription with very great interest. 
John Rogers was one of the most learned and pious 
men that England ever produced. He was arrested 
and condemned to be roasted alive, simply because 
he declared that Christ was the only head of the 
Church. On the fourth of February, 1555, early in 
the morning, in Newgate Prison (three minutes' walk 
from my hotel toward the south) where he was con- 
fined with thieves and murderers, he was awakened 
out of a sound sleep, and commanded to prepare for 
the fire. He begged that he might speak a few 



MORE ABOUT LONDON. 191 

words with his wife before burning ; but this was 
refused. He was immediately conveyed to Smith- 
field. On the way he sang a psalm, and the people 
were astonished at his constancy and firmness. His 
wife and ten children — one an infant at the breast — 
met him on the way to the stake. It was a piteous 
spectacle. His heart was wrung with anguish at the 
thought of leaving his darlings to the cruelty of a 
cold and heartless world. But when his persecutors 
offered him life and liberty if he would recant, he 
said: "Go on; I will not recant." And so they 
burned him. As he was burning, he bathed his 
hands in the flame, and thus, after lingering agony, 
rendered up his life in defense of the gospel of 
Christ. 

At Smithfield I got a better idea than I ever had 
before of the cost of the religious liberty which we 
Americans enjoy. God help us to maintain what our 
English forefathers purchased with their lives. 

A short distance east of Smithfield I visited St. 
Giles' Church. Beneath the chancel lie the remains 
of John Milton, one of four or five men — the great- 
est poets who ever lived. In another part of the 
church is a tablet on the wall bearing the inscription: 
'•John Milton, Author of Paradise Lost. Born Dec, 
1608, died Nov., 1671. His father died March, 1641. 
They are both interred in this church." Many other 
distinguished men lie buried here, among whom I 
notice Martin Frobisher the discoverer, and the 
author of " Foxe's Book of Martyrs." Oliver Crom- 
well was married in this same place. 

From St. Giles' Church I went north a few rods to 
the Charterhouse, where John Wesley and many 
others of England's greatest men, were fitted for the 



102 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

University. The building was first a monastery ; 
then a palace ; then, by the purchase and endowment 
of Thomas Sutton, a school for forty poor boys and 
a refuge for eighty poor men. In 1872 the school 
was removed ; but the refuge remains. I was shown 
the park around which Wesley used to walk three 
times every morning before breakfast. 

Returning past my hotel and going a little distance 
to the south, I was at the corner of Newgate street 
and Old Bailey, where stands Newgate prison. 
Within its walls all executions for the city take place. 
W 7 hen a man commits murder in England, he is 
immediately put on trial, if he can be caught, and is 
speedily brought to punishment. Whether he is a 
beggar or a Lord, a pauper or a millionaire, he soon 
swings by the neck. In this country it usually takes 
from one to three years to convict and execute a 
murderer, and, if the guilty party has plenty of 
money, he snaps his fingers at justice and goes scot- 
free. Crimes of violence are alarmingly on the 
increase in the United States. The chief cause is 
the tardiness and uncertainty with which American 
justice pursues the guilty. Crime, among us, is lynx- 
eyed, and travels by lightning-express ; while Justice 
is blind, or near-sighted, and travels by stage-coach 
or canal-boat. Because wicked men, who have no 
fear of God, have little fear of human vengeance, 
they hesitate not to shed the blood of their fellow 
men. If there were a reasonable certainty 'hat 
death would speedily overtake the manslayer, there 
would not be one murder where now there are three. 
To make a bad matter worse, a strong effort is being 
made, all over the land, by people of sickly senti- 
mentality, to abolish capital punishment. 



MORE ABO UT L ONDON. 193 

I believe in capital punishment, for many reasons, 
chiefly because the Bible says: "Whoso sheddeth 
man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed : for in 
the image of God made he man." I would not 
ordain any cruel or barbarous mode of execution ; but, 
in some form, death should speedily be visited on 
every one who intentionally and maliciously takes a 
human life. It will not do to say that the divine 
statute which I quoted has been repealed. It is not 
a Jewish ordinance, which Christianity has sup- 
planted. It was enacted long before the Jewish dis- 
pensation, in the infancy of human history, and will be 
in force as long as the world endures. 

Diagonally across the street from Newgate Prison, 
stands St. Sepulcher's Church, from whose square 
tower a knell is tolled whenever an execution takes 
place at Newgate. In old times, when Tyburn was 
the place of execution, every criminal, on his way to 
death, was presented with a nosegay at the door of 
this church. I wonder if that was the origin of the 
American custom for ladies to fill the cells of con- 
demned malefactors with costly bouquets, especially if 
the hapless victims of murderous rage happened to 
belong to their own sex ? 

I went into St. Sepulcher's and reverently stood 
above the grave of the gallant Captain John Smith, 
whose life was saved, in Virginia, by Pocahontas, the 
Indian maid. The first line .of the now nearly illegi- 
ble epitaph runs thus : " Here lies one conquered that 
hath conquered kings." 

From St. Sepulcher's it is only a short walk to 
St. Paul's. This is the grandest building in London. 
It was designed by Sir Christopher Wren, and was 
begun in 675 and completed in 17 10. It is an inter- 



194 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

esting fact that the whole edifice was erected by one 
architect and one master mason, under one bishop. 
The cost of construction — nearly four million dollars 
— was defrayed by a tax levied on the coal brought 
into London during the period of its erection. The 
ground plan of this cathedral is a Roman cross. It is 
five hundred feet long and one hundred and eighteen 
broad, and the transept is two hundred and fifty feet 
long. The dome, from the pavement to the top of the 
cross, is three hundred and sixty-five feet high. Its 
circumference is three hundred and fifty-two feet. 

St. Paul's is the fourth largest church in Christen- 
dom, being surpassed only by St. Peter's at 
Rome, the Cathedral of Saville, in Spain, and the 
Cathedral of Milan. St. Paul's resembles St. Peter's, 
with this difference, however, that Rome's cathedral 
covers twice as much ground as London's, is seventy 
feet higher, has a much larger dome and cost more 
than twelve times as much. I ought to add that the 
interior decorations of St. Peter's are as much richer 
and more beautiful than those of St. Paul's as you 
could imagine. There is no comparison whatever 
between the two, in this respect. 

We approach the front of St. Paul's from the west. 
Here is a semi-circular, paved court, with a row of 
forty large stone posts running around it. Just Within 
the court, surrounded by a high fence of iron 
pickets, is a marble statue of Queen Anne. Around 
the base of the lofty pedestal on which she stands, sit 
four emblematic figures, representing, respectively, 
England, France, Ireland and America. 

Now look at the church. Its material is white 
marble. But two hundred years of London smoke 
and fog have covered most of it with, a coat of paint 



MORE ABOUT LONDON. 195 

almost as black as ink. There is enough of the 
white stone in sight to enable you to imagine how 
beautiful the building must have been when it was 
new. The front — or facade, as the architects call it, 
— presents a double portico, consisting of twelve 
Corinthian pillars below and eight composite pillars 
above, a pediment and two campanile towers, each 
two hundred and twenty-two feet in height. The 
tower on our left has a fine peal of twelve bells. The 
other tower contains the largest bell in Great Britain, 
called "Great Paul," weighing more than sixteen 
tons. When that bell speaks, all London is compelled 
to listen. 

Look up at the pediment — you would call it the 
gable — between the towers. It is filled with statues, 
or figures in very high relief. You see a group of 
horsemen. The animals are rearing and plunging, 
so that the riders can hardly keep their saddles. One, 
in the middle of the group, has fallen to the ground, 
under a blaze of glory which is flashing down from 
the parted heavens. That represents the conversion 
of Paul. You are familiar with the story. The 
name of the man was called Saul at the first. He 
was a Jew. He was a man of gigantic intellect, of 
prodigious learning, of unconquerable will, of tireless 
energy. In short, of the legions of great men whom 
the Jewish race has given to the world, he was the 
greatest. He was a Jew. He was not a Christian. 
He hated Christianity. He honestly believed that 
Jesus of Nazareth was an impostor and that his 
religion was a tissue of impositions and lies. His 
mistake was that he had not carefully and prayerfully 
investigated the subject without rancor or prejudice. 
But, believing that Christianity was a fraud, he was 



196 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

determined to destroy it, branches and root. So he 
organized a persecution, which began with the mar- 
tyrdom of Stephen,. in whose murder he had a hand. 
From that he went on, making havoc of the Church 
and casting both men and women into prison. 
" Breathing out threatenings and slaughter against 
the disciples of the Lord," "and being exceedingly 
mad against them," he started for Damascus, with a 
company of armed men, clothed with authority to 
arrest and bind, and bring to Jerusalem for trial, any 
Christian whom he might find in that foreign city. 
Just as the cavalcade had reached the top of a hill 
overlooking Damascus, at the hour of noon, when the 
sun was shining, in that Syrian sky, with a dazzling 
brilliancy such as it never wears in this humid cli- 
mate, suddenly a light from heaven shone round about 
them so intensely bright that the sun turned pale like 
the moon, and every horseman was hurled to the 
ground. With the light, came a voice, speaking in 
the Hebrew language : " Saul, Saul, why persecutest 
thou me ? " The disarmed and blinded persecutor 
answered: "Who art thou, Lord?" The answer 
came : " I am Jesus, whom thou persecutest." Look- 
ing up through the parted heavens, Saul saw Jesus 
sitting on the right hand of God the Father. He 
saw his mistake. He saw that the Christians were 
right. He saw that Jesus was the Messiah foretold 
in the Old Testament Scriptures. Like an honest 
man, he acknowledged his error and humbly asked : 
" Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? " 

I have not time to continue the story. You know 
that Saul became a Christian ; that he was called 
Paul ; that he did more to build up the Church of 
Jesus Christ than any other man who ever lived ; that 



MORE A/iOUT LONDON. 11)7 

he showed the sincerity of his conversion by sacri- 
ficing every worldly advantage and by laying down 
his life for the sake of the truth, as his great intel- 
lect and heart saw and felt the truth. The conversion 
of such a man as Paul, and his subsequent life, prove 
that the Christian religion is true. I believe that 
every man who honestly, carefully, persistently and 
prayerfully seeks to know the truth, will come to the 
conclusion that Jesus is the Son of God and the 
Saviour of the world. 

Look up at the Cathedral again. On the apex of 
pediment you see a statue. It is fifteen feet tall. It 
is St. Paul. On his right is St. Peter ; on his left .St. 
James. At the bases of the towers are the four 
Evangelists — two on the north tower and two on the 
south. Look still higher. You see the dome rising, 
from the junction of the arms of the cross, three 
hundred feet back from the front. Do you see the 
ball and cross surmounting the lantern at the top of 
the dome ? Together the ball and cross weigh 8,960 
pounds. The ball is hollow, and will hold twelve 
men at once. 

Let us go in. We must ascend a flight of twenty- 
two marble steps. Passing under the portico and 
through one of the doors, we find the interior impos- 
ing from the vastness of its proportions ; but it 
strikes us as being bare and dark. It is thickly 
lined with statues and monuments of England's great 
men, many of whom are buried here. 

I went down into the crypt. Directly under the 
dome is the sarcophagus of Lord Nelson, Britain's 
greatest sea-fighter. Near by, with lights always 
burning around it, is a larger and more beautiful 
sarcophagus of the Duke of Wellington. Wellington 



15)8 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

and Nelson, two little men (I mean physically) con- 
quered Napoleon, who was physically a little man, at 
Waterloo and Trafalgar. Those three little men 
shook the earth and the sea, proving that it does not 
take a great mass of flesh and bones to make a great 
man. 

Among those sleeping under the great church I 
noticed the name of one American — Benjamin West, 
formerly President of the Royal Academy of Paint- 
ing and Sculpture, born in the state of Pennsylvania. 

Every stone in the floor of that great subterranean 
chamber covers the remains, and bears the name, of 
some distinguished person. I must not fail to men- 
tion the architect of the Cathedral, Sir Christopher 
Wren, who here reposes, with his wife by his side. 
A memorial tablet up stairs, over the entrance of the 
north transept, has his name, and age at death — 
ninety years — with the Latin inscription : " Lector, 
is monumentum requiris, circumspice," " Reader, if 
you seek his monument, look around you." I left 
St. Paul's saying to myself : If I had not been to 
Milan and Rome I should call this a most magnificent 
church. 

Wednesday morning, August 13, between nine and 
ten o'clock, I started for Westminster Abbey. 1 
rode on top of a bus as far as Charing Cross and 
Trafalgar Square. A part of the route lay along the 
Strand, one of the busiest and most celebrated of 
London's streets. Charing Cross is the place where 
the bier of Queen Eleanor, the wife of Edward I., 
was set down for the last time on its way to Westmin- 
ster Abbey. On the spot now stands an equestrian 
statue of King Charles I. 

Immediately north of this is Trafalgar Square, one 



MORE ABOUT L OND ON. 199 

of the finest open places in the world. It is dedicated 
to Lord Nelson, and commemorates his glorious vic- 
tory at the battle of Trafalgar, gained by the English 
fleet over the combined armaments of France and 
Spain. This victory saved England from invasion by 
the armies of Napoleon and gave Nelson the title of 
Saviour of his country. In the center of the square 
rises a massive granite Corinthian column, one hun- 
dred and forty-five feet high, crowned with a statue of 
Nelson, seventeen feet in height. The pedestal is 
adorned with reliefs in bronze, cast from cannon 
captured from the French. On the north face is a 
scene from the battle of Aboukir, representing Nelson 
wounded in the head, declining to be assisted out of his 
turn by a surgeon who has been dressing the wounds 
of a common sailor. On the east side is the battle of 
Copenhagen. On the west side is the battle of St. 
Vincent. On the south side is the death of Nelson 
at Trafalgar. 

On the morning of that battle the great admiral 
displayed from the mast of his flag-ship a signal, on 
which every sailor, in every one of his thirty-five 
men-of-war, read the inspiring words: "England 
expects every man to do his duty." In the hour of 
victory Nelson was mortally wounded by a musket- 
ball from the rigging of a French ship ; but his last 
message to his men, inscribed on his monument in 
Trafalgar Square, will be remembered to the end of 
time. 

That would be a good motto for us, who profess to 
be Christians, only putting God in place of England. 
" God expects every man to do his duty." Because 
every man in the English fleet did his duty at Trafal- 
gar, England won a glorious victory. If every mem- 



200 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

ber of the Church, in any place, would do his duty, 
that church would be grandly successful in every 
department of effort. But the trouble, in all churches, 
is that there are so many dead-heads, who expect 
some one else to do their work and pay their bills. 
My brother, God expects every man to do his duty ; 
he expects you to do your duty. Will you do your 
duty like a man, or will you shirk like a craven and a 
coward ? 

At the base of the Nelson Monument are four 
colossal bronze lions, modeled by Sir Edwin Landseer, 
crouching upon pedestals running out from the 
column in the form of a cross. The monument was 
erected in 1843 by voluntary contributions, at a cost 
of two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. 
North of the monument are two fountains and several 
statues. 

North of the square is the National Gallery of Fine 
Arts. Noble buildings surround it on the east and 
west. From the south side runs Whitehall, a broad 
street, named from a palace which used to stand 
there. Walking down Whitehall, you pass a variety 
of uninteresting buildings. On the left, over beyond 
a short distance, out of sight, flows the river, in an 
opposite direction to that which you are taking. On 
the right you pass the Horse Guards, the head- 
quarters of the British Army ; the Treasury Building ; 
the head of Downing Street ; and the Public Offices, 
a large pile of buildings, which cost two millions and 
a half of dollars. Over back of the Horse Guards is 
St. James' Park, full of beauty, covering fifty-nine 
acres On the north of St. James' Park is St. James' 
Palace. On the west is Buckingham Palace. The 
latter is the Queen's city residence, and the place 



M ORE ABO UT L ON DON. 201 

where she holds her drawing-rooms. The former is 
used only for levees. The difference between a levee 
and a drawing-room is that, at the former, gentlemen 
only are presented to the sovereign, while at the latter 
it is almost entirely ladies who are introduced. 

You and I could not get into either of these palaces, 
into the presence of the Sovereign of the British 
Empire. If we should try to enter, armed 
guards would push us back with the points of their 
bayonets. But hear what the Sovereign of the Uni- 
verse has said : " Thus saith the high and lofty 
One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, I 
dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that 
is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit 
of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite 
ones." The Queen *of England will not let you come 
into her house. The King of Heaven will come into 
your home and your heart. 

If you should' go through St. James' Park and past 
Buckingham Palace, you would find yourself in Green 
Park, which covers sixty acres. Just beyond that, to 
the west, is Hyde Park, which covers four hundred 
acres. While I am on the subject of parks, I might 
as well tell you that London has three other large 
parks — Victoria, Regents' and Kensington Gardens 
— which cover nearly a thousand acres, besides a great 
number of smaller ones. All these are right in Lon- 
don's heart. Surely we may well exclain : " What 
city is like unto this great city ? " 

But I was on the way to Westminster Abbey, and 
was almost there, when I stopped to tell you about 
the palaces and the parks. However, we will not go 
into the Abbey to-night. If we do, we shall stay too 
long, and unduly protract this service ; or we shall 



202 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VfL. 

not be able to remain long enough t<?' get any 
satisfaction. 

We will go across the street, eastward, to the 
Houses of Parliament, or Palace of Westminster — as 
it is sometimes called. It is an immense building, in 
the late Gothic style of architecture, covering eight 
acres and costing fifteen million dollars. Its imposing 
river front is nine hundred and forty feet long, and is 
adorned with statues of all the English monarchs 
from William the conqueror down to Queen Victoria. 
It has three towers — St. Stephen's, Middle and 
Victoria — whose respective altitudes are 318, 300 and 
340 feet. In St. Stephen's Tower is a clock with 
four dials, each twenty feet in diameter. It takes 
five hours to wind up the striking parts of this clock. 

This enormous building, with its eleven courts, 
one hundred stair cases and eleven hundred rooms, 
does not excite one's admiration, when viewed 
from the outside, as much as our Capitol at Washing- 
ton. It stands too low to show what it really is. I 
walked through the Queen's Robing Room, the Royal 
Gallery, the Prince's Chamber, the Central Hall, the 
House of Peers, the House of Commons and West- 
minster Hall, beside many smaller apartments. Each 
one of these, with its pictures and statues and costly 
furnishings, deserves half an hour of description. 

The last named — Westmister Hall — is seven times 
as large as this audience room, and about three times 
as high, and has no columns to support its ceiling and 
roof. It has been the scene of many memorable 
events. Here Charles I., was tried and condemned ; 
also Walace Bruce, Sir Thomas More, Guy Fawkes 
and scores of other noted historical characters. Here 
Warren Hastings was acquitted, after a trial running 



MORE ABOUT LONDON. 203 

through seven years. Here Oliver Cromwell, wearing 
the royal purple lined with ermine, and holding a 
golden sceptre in one hand and a Bible in the other, 
was saluted as Lord Protector. Eight years after- 
ward the Protector's body was dragged from its 
resting 'place in Westminster Abbey and thrust 
into a pit at Tyburn, while his head was exposed 
on one of the pinnacles of this same Westminster 
Hall, where it remained thirty years. What a com- 
mentary on the fickleness of fortune and the barbarity 
of those times! 

I visited the Royal Mews (so called), in the rear of 
Buckingham Palace, where the Queen's horses and 
carriages are kept. There are one hundred and ten 
horses in that place. They were all bred and raised 
there, and none are ever sold. The attendants 
showed me an immense array of harness and trap- 
pings, heavy with gold, used by the present monarch 
and by her predecessors. I saw the Queen's car- 
riages. I saw one, seldom used, which cost 38,000 
dollars, and weighs four tons. It is a real work of 
art, built in 1762. I was also shown eight beautiful 
cream-colored horses, just alike, with long silvery 
tails sweeping the floor, which are never used except 
when the Queen rides from Buckingham Palace to 
Westminster, to open Parliament. 

The Queen's equipage — I said to myself — is noth- 
ing compared with God's horses and chariot of fire, 
which took Elijah to heaven, and which will come to 
get the soul of the poorest and most despised 
Christian pauper, when the hour of his departure 
shall have arrived. This Book declares that " the 
chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands 
upon thousands : the Lord is among them, as in 
Sinai, in the sanctuary." 



204 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VET 

I wish I had time to tell you all about the South 
Kensington Museum and the National Galiery. But 
I should need a whole evening for each, and then my 
subject would only be begun. In the latter place, I 
lingered longest in the Turner Room. It contains 
sixty of the best pictures of England's greatest 
painter. Most of them are large. I did not like 
them at first — they are so peculiar. But they grew 
upon me rapidly. I consider his favorite, "The Fight- 
ing Temeraire Towed to her Last Berth" the best. 
After I had seen that, I could hardly look at any 
other. My eyes kept going to it, in whatever part of 
the room I might be. It seemed to have a magnetic 
power which it was almost impossible to resist. 

So, I thought, it will be with the face and glorified 
form of our Saviour in heaven. There will be ten 
thousand things to attract our attention there — the 
angels, the prophets, the apostles, the martyrs, our 
friends whom we knew on earth. But when once we 
have looked in the face of him who died for our 
redemption, all other things will seem nothing in 
comparison, and so through eternity, our eyes will 
follow him whithersoever he or we shall move. To 
him whose vision has been clarified by the regen- 
erating power of the Holy Ghost, Jesus is, and 
always will be, "the chiefest among ten thousand " 
and the one " altogether lovely." 

To a student, the greatest thing in London is the 
British Museum. It is the greatest institution of the 
kind in the world. I spent an entire day there, and 
part of an afternoon some days later. The building 
covers seven acres of ground, and has thirty acres of 
floors. It is filled with antiquities, for many of which 
fabulous prices have been paid, the whole forming a 



MORE A BOUT LONDON. 205 

collection which all the wealth of the world could not 
buy. It is visited, every year, by nearly half a 
million persons. It is a world of wonders. I went 
through the whole, but spent most of my time in the 
" Elgin," 'VEphesus," " Mausoleum," "Assyrian " and 
"Egyptian" rooms. In the first named are the 
"Elgin" marbles — nearly all the sculptures of the 
Parthenon at Athens, full of fascinating interest to 
every Greek student. The " Ephesus" room contains 
remains, not very extensive, of the Temple of Diana 
at Ephesus, one of the " Seven Wonders of the 
World." The " Mausoleum " room contains very 
extensive remains of the Mausoleum of Coria, which 
was built twenty-two hundred years ago, and was 
counted among the "Seven Wonders." With what 
interest and reverence did I gaze upon the colossal 
statue of the old king which once crowned the sum- 
mit of that famous monument ! It must be about 
fifteen feet tall. One of the chariot horses remains, 
in two pieces. It is of white marble, about as large 
as a good sized elephant. It once stood on the sum- 
mit of a marble building one hundred and eighty feet 
high. That marvelous tomb, of which these are the 
shattered fragments, was built by a woman to express 
her love for a noble husband, snatched away by cruel 
death. The strongest human love is that which 
binds together the hearts of husband and wife, truly 
wedded, according to the original plan and purpose 
of God. Fraternal, filial, paternal and even maternal 
affection are far less strong than the purest conjugal 
love. 

Among millions of articles in the British Museum 
one of the most highly prized and eagerly visited, is 
the Portland Vase. It is made of blue glass covered 



206 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

with an enamel of white glass, and cut in carmeo-so as to 
show a finely artistic group of the wedding of Thetis 
and Peleus. It once held the ashes of a relation of 
the Emperor Alexander Severus, perhaps his mother, 
or those of the Emperor himself. That was over 
sixteen hundred years ago. Twelve hundred years 
after it came from the potter's hands, it was found in 
a tomb in Rome. In 1810 it became the property of 
the Duke of Portland. Although it is only ten 
inches high, it is one of the most valued relics of 
antiquity. Millions of money would not buy it. Mr. 
Wedgwood, one of the most distinguished manu- 
facturers of ceramics, spent twenty thousand dollars 
in trying to make a vase like it, and confessed that 
he could not. In 1845 the Portland Vase was wan- 
tonly broken by a madman, named Lloyd ; and the 
world sent up a cry of agony. But the numerous 
pieces have been so carefully reunited that you would 
hardly notice that it had ever been broken. 

It was my fixed purpose, when I went to London, 
to see the Portland Vase ; and yet I did not. The 
first time I went to the Museum, I thought I had 
plenty of time and would look it up at the next visit. 
The day before I bade good-bye to London, I went 
to the Museum for the second and last time. It 
usually closes at five o'clock. That day I saw a 
notice posted at the door that it would not close till 
six. I supposed that the whole museum would be 
open till six, and thought to myself : I will go to the 
" Gold Room" and see the Portland Vase between 
five and six. So I lingered in other apartments two 
or three hours, and when I came to the Gold Room 
at about fifteen minutes past five it was locked for 
the day. As I was to leave London, with the party, 



MORE ABO UT L ONDON. 207 

for Scotland, before that door would again swing on 
its hinges, I must go back to America with the 
shameful confession that I had not seen the Portland 
Vase. 

That was a lesson for me. The lesson was : 
Never put off till the next day or the next hour what 
ought to be done now. I ought to have made sure of 
seeing the British Museum's choicest, single treasure 
the first hour I was there. 

You can easily make a spiritual application of this 
thought. You intend at some time, to attend to 
religion and the salvation of your soul. But you 
think it will be just as well, if not better, to defer it 
to some future period, perhaps the evening of life. 
You think : "The last thing, just before death, I will 
repent and give my heart to God, and so enter heaven." 
But I want to tell you that when you are ready God 
may say : " Too late. You cannot enter now." 
Therefore, I close this sermon as I did the last : 
" Behold, now is the accepted time ; behold, now is 
the day of salvation." 



208 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 



XII. 

WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR 
CASTLE. 

'' The two houses, the house of the Lord and the king s 
house T — I Kings ix. To. 

The two houses referred to in this text were built 
by Solomon, and were a temple, or church, in which 
the people assembled to worship God, and a palace, 
or castle, in which the king and royal family resided. 
I am to speak to you to-night about two houses — 
"the house of the Lord and the king's house." The 
house of the Lord, which I have in mind, is a church, 
Westminster Abbey ; the house of the king is Wind- 
sor Castle, the chief residence of England's monarch. 

Westminster Abbey is a church and a mausoleum, 
a place of worship and a place of burial, a house of 
God and a house of death. It stands, facing the 
w r est, with its back about eight hundred feet from 
the River Thames, between which and itself rise the 
walls and the towers of the Houses of Parliament. 
Its official name is the Collegiate Church of St. Peter. 
Its foundation dates back more than twelve hundred 
years. It has been several times demolished, rebuilt 
and improved. The present edifice, or the greater 
part of it, is six hundred years old. Its external 
appearance is grand and imposing, although age has 
greatly marred its beauty — the walls in many places 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR. 209 

being perfectly black. In front it shows two massive 
towers, just alike, each two hundred and twenty-five 
feet in height. The total length of the edifice from 
west to east, is five hundred and thirteen feet. The 
length of the transept, from north to south, is two 
hundred feet. The width of the nave and aisles is 
seventy-five feet ; of the transept, eighty feet. The 
entire area covered by the church is a little less than 
one-third of that of St. Peter's at Rome, and nearly 
ten times that of the building in which we are now 
assembled. 

With its royal burial vaults and long rows of 
monuments to celebrated men, Westminster Abbey is 
regarded by the English as their national Temple of 
Fame ; and interment within its walls is considered 
the last and greatest honor which the nation can 
bestow on her most deserving children. " Victory or 
Westminster Abbey ! " was the cry of Lord Nelson, 
on the eve of the battle of Cape St. Vincent. 
" Victory and Westminster Abbey ! " has been the 
inspiration and hope of thousands of Englishmen in 
fighting against the difficulties which stand in the 
way of worldly success. 

The shape of Westminster Abbey, on the ground, 
is that of a Roman cross. The lower part of the 
cross, if you imagine it to stand erect, is the nave 
and aisles. The cross piece is the transept. The 
upper part, above the horizontal beam, is filled in 
with nine chapels, named after kings and saints and 
lined with splendid tombs. 

I entered the place through the door of the north 
transept. I found a religious service in progress. 
The clergyman and singers occupied the choir — 
which extends down into the nave, from the i unction 



210 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

of the arms of the cross — and the congregation were 
sitting in the north transept. I sat down among the 
living and the dead — the former less numerous by 
far than the latter — and drank in the spirit of the 
songs and prayers and Scripture lessons. It was an 
hour of rare, strange and fascinating enjoyment 

When the service was over, I arose, and for about 
five hours, wandered through that grand, old historic 
place, which, since, in early childhood, I read Irving's 
Sketch Book, I o had longed to see. For five hours 
the nineteenth century was in the future, and I lived 
in the distant past. I seemed a ghost walking, unter- 
rified, among the giant spirits of the generations 
gone. 

With the help of your imagination and mine, I want 
to take you by the arm and conduct you through this 
temple of earthly fame and grandeur. We are now 
standing with our backs to the door of the north 
transept. We look south to the end of the other tran- 
sept, two hundred feet away. The transept has a 
broad aisle, and two side aisles, with rows of columns 
between, supporting the roof. The ceiling is one hun- 
dred and two. feet above our heads. Against the 
columns and walls of the transept stand statues and 
tombs of illustrious men. The statues all look like 
life. Some of the monumental tombs are rare and 
rich and costly ; others are cheaper and more simple 
and plain. Most of the great names commemorated 
in this north transept belong to statesmen and war- 
riors. A few, out of scores, I will point out. 

Here, on our right, is a large monument to William 
Pitt, Lord Chatham, built of snowy marble. Above, 
in a niche, Chatham is represented in the attitude of 
an orator, with his right hand outstretched. At his 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR. 211 

feet sit two female figures Wisdom and Courage. In 
the center is Britannia with a trident. To the 
right and left are Earth and Sea. As an American I 
was interested in this monument of Pitt, because our 
city of Pittsburgh was named after him, and because, 
when the English aristocracy undertook to rob and 
enslave our fathers, he took our part, and, when the 
war of the Revolution came on, though sinking under 
the infirmities of age, he rallied all the great powers 
of his eloquence to oppose the cruel and oppressive 
measures which were put in practice to crush us. 
Pitt came up from among the people. Therefore he 
was our friend. We should never forget that, while 
the aristocracy of England have always been our 
enemies, and wish us all manner of evil now, the 
English people are, and always have been, our 
friends. 

Over there, on the left, is the statue of Lord Bea- 
consfield, whose real name was Disraeli, the great 
Hebrew scholar, writer and statesman, who became 
prime-minister of England and virtual ruler of two 
hundred and sixty millions of people. 

Nearly opposite Disraeli is another British Premier, 
Lord Palmerston. 

Still farther down, on the same side, are the monu- 
ments, statues and graves of two rival statesmen and 
bitter political enemies — Charles James Fox and 
the younger William Pitt. They were both men 
of extraordinary genius, consummate eloquence and 
commanding influence. But Fox was an inveterate 
gambler, a hard drinker, an unprincipled profligate 
and the greatest spendthrift of his day ; while Pitt, 
though possessed of many virtues, selfishly kept Eng- 
land in a needless war, of twenty years duration, 
which cost rivers of blood and mountains of money. 



212 THE GOSPEL OF FORIEGN TRA VEL. 

While we stand by the graves of these inveterate 
enemies, we recall the well-known lines of Scott : 

" Drop upon Fox's grave a tear, 
'Twill trickle to his rival's bier," 

and we feel like saying : since we are all going to lie 

down together in the grave, we cannot afford to be 

enemies ; let us all be friends ; let us do each other 

all the good we can ; let us never speak into each 

other's faces, or behind each other's backs, an unkind 

word which we shall regret on a dying bed or 

before the judgment throne. 

But we must not linger longer in this transept. Let 
us turn the corner to the right and walk down the 
north aisle of the church. We are between two long 
rows of tombs. Those on the right are against the 
wall, while those on the left are against the columns 
which divide the aisle from the nave. Nearly every 
tomb, or monument, is adorned with one or more 
statues. Above, on the walls and columns, are 
memorial tablets. Still higher up, the pictured 
windows are filled with names and mottoes, remind- 
ing us of men who became great in war, or states- 
manship, or art, or science, or law, or philanthropy. 
The south aisle is like the north. The nave is as full 
of tombs and tablets and statues as either aisle. The 
very stones on which we tread cover the ashes, and 
bear the names, of departed greatness. 

I have not time to describe one hundredth part of 
all that this most wonderful of mausoleums contains. 
We will merely glance at a few of the tombs and 
statues and names. Here in the north aisle, sitting on 
his sarcophagus, is the statue of William Wilberforce, 
the Christian statesman, who distinguished himself 
by his self-denying efforts for the dissemination of 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY A ND WINDSOR. 213 

the Scriptures, the christianizing of India, the 
granting of their rights to the American 
Colonies and the abolition of slavery. For the last 
of these, the abolition of African slavery in the 
British colonies, he introduced a bill in Parliament, 
one hundred years ago, and stood almost alone in its 
defense. Defeated at first, he renewed his efforts 
and persisted, till, after a struggle of twenty years, 
he had the joy of seeing the emancipation bill 
pass both houses. 

Out in the nave, in front of the choir, is 
the monument and tomb of Sir Isaac New- 
ton. The half-recumbent figure of the great philoso- 
pher reposes on a black marble sarcophagus, beside 
which are two small cherubs unfolding a scroll. 
Below is a bass relief illustrating the labors of the 
deceased. Above is an allegorical figure of astron- 
omy upon a large globe. Newton was one of the 
greatest scientist that ever lived. He discovered the 
principle of the attraction of gravitation, and demon- 
strated the laws by which it operates on earth and 
among the stars. He was the father of the science 
of optics, and was the first to show to the world that 
the white light of the sun consists of seven colors 
blended together. He found out more of nature's 
great secrets than almost any other man who ever 
lived. And yet he was a meek and humble follower of 
the lowly Jesus. He laid down his heart, and all the 
riches of his gigantic intellect, at the pierced, bleed- 
ing feet of the man of Calvary. He, the prince of 
philosophers, used to say : " We account the Bible— 
the Scriptures of God — to be the most sublime phil- 
osophy." 

There are some ignorant and weak-minded persons, 



214 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

who think that the scholarship and intellect of the 
world are arrayed against Christianity. Standing in 
Westminster Abbey, in front of the mausoleum of Sir 
Isaac Newton, I want to tell you that that statement 
is the farthest from being the truth. The truth is 
that most of the great scientists and sages, the brain- 
iest men in the world, have been and are Christians, 
at least in theor)^ and belief. 

Copernicus, the father of the modern science of 
astronomy and the discoverer of the true motion of 
the sun and earth, was a minister of the gospel. 
Galileo, the inventor of the clock, the thermometer, 
the microscope and the telescope, and the discoverer 
of the moons of Jupiter, was a member of the 
Church. Kepler, who wrought out the stupendous 
problem of the planetary movements, was a Protestant 
Christian. Sir Humphry Davy, a physician, chemist 
and discoverer of marvelous ability, was an earnest 
Christian. Faraday, the greatest of English chemists, 
declared himself a firm believer in the Christian 
religion. Humboldt, the famous German naturalist 
and geographer, used, admired, praised and believed 
the Bible. Hugh Miller, a prince among geologists, 
was a member of the Presbyterian Church. Morse, 
the inventor of the electric telegraph, was the son of 
a Congregational minister, and himself a Christian. 
Mitchel, the greatest of American astronomers, was 
an ardent believer in, and defender of, the Christian 
faith. Lieut. Maury, the greatest of geographers 
and meteorologist that America ever produced, was 
a Christian scientist, and once declared that the study 
of the Bible was a great help to him in his scientific 
researches. Agassiz, whose fame has filled the world, 
was the son of a Protestant clergyman of Switzer- 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR. 215 

land, and a champion, on scientific principles, of the 
doctrines of a personal God, as set forth in the Holy 
Scriptures. 

He once formed one of a small circle of literary 
guests at a private dinner. The conversation turned 
upon the subject of religion, which was treated with 
derision and railery. Each one had his own jest, 
except Agassiz. He was silent and thoughtful. At 
last there was a lull, and all seemed waiting for hkn 
to speak. With most impressive seriousness of 
expression, he said : "Gentlemen, I once thought 
and spoke as you do now ; but I have read the Bible, 
and I know that it is true. If you ask me how I 
know that it is true, perhaps the best reason I can 
give is (laying his hand upon his breast), I feel that 
it is true." 

" And what shall I more say? for the time would 
fail me to tell of " Dante, and Tasso, and Milton, and 
Shakespeare, and Cowper, and Bryant, and Tennyson, 
and Longfellow, and Herschel, and Guizot, and 
Prescott, and Carlyle, and Washington, and Adams, 
and Lincoln, and Grant, and Garfield, who believing 
in the Gospel, wrote poems, composed histories, 
originated philosophies, framed constitutions, gov- 
erned nations and emancipated races. Surely he 
who affirms that the brains of the world are against 
the Bible and Christ, has small brains himself, or has 
little regard for the truth. 

Some distance in front of Newton's tomb, not far 
from the center of the nave, is a large stone in the 
floor covering the remains, and covered with the 
epitaph, of David Livingstone, the great explorer and 
heroic Christian missionary, who penetrated the heart 
of Africa long before the world ever heard of Stanley 
and Emin Pasha. 



216 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

Over in the south aisle are scores of beautiful and 
interesting monuments, statues and tablets. As a 
Christian and a Methodist, I was greatly interested 
in the memorial of John and Charles Wesley. It 
consists of a large marble slab against the wall, with 
a medallion of the two brothers in the upper section, 
and a bass-relief of John preaching on his father's 
grave, in the lower. Above the medallion are the 
names of the brothers, with the date of the birth and 
death of each. Under the medallion are John's 
dying words : "The best of all is, God is with us." 
Under the bass-relief is the motto which he took for 
himself when he was denied the privilege of preach- 
ing in the churches : " The world is my parish." 

The Wesleys came to the front when religion in 
England was* almost dead. When they began to 
preach, religion began to live. But the bats and 
owls, who made their vile nests under the shadow of 
the tomb of a dead Christianity, did not like to be 
disturbed and at once stirred up a bitter persecution 
against the evangelists. Although they were both 
ordained ministers of the Church of England, every 
place of worship was shut against them, and they 
were compelled to preach in the fields and streets. 
In the face of curses and yells of hate and stones and 
rotten eggs, they persevered, till now their spiritual 
children are counted by many millions and their faces, 
carved in enduring stone, are deemed worthy of a 
niche in England's grandest temple of fame. Charles 
Wesley was the greatest sacred poet since King 
David ; and John was the greatest gospel minister 
since the Apostle Paul. The doctrines which they 
preached and sung were chiefly these : Everybody 
can be saved if he will ; everybody must be born 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR. 217 

again ; everybody may know that his sins are for- 
given ; everybody can be cleansed from all unright- 
eousness and made holy in heart and life. These 
are the doctrines which Methodism is proclaiming 
throughout the world. I proclaim them to you 
to-night. Every one of you maybe saved, and be 
saved to-night. Every one in this house, who has 
not already been, must be born again. Every one 
of you may know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, 
that your sins are all forgiven and your name writ- 
ten in the book of life. Every one of you can be 
saved through and through — saved from the least 
and last remains of sin. 

Passing up the south aisle, and around the corner 
into the south transept, we find ourselves in the Poets' 
Corner. It contains monuments and memorials of 
Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Ben Johnson, Spencer, 
Goldsmith, Addison, Dickens, Thackery, our loved 
Longfellow and hundreds of others who have 
enriched the world with the treasures of their genius. 
The Shakespeare monument is a full length statue of 
the poet, with one elbow resting on a pile of books 
the other hand holding a scroll on which is carved a 
quotation from " The Tempest : " 

" The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, 
And like this unsubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rock behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made of ; and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep." 

The Longfellow memorial is a beautiful marble 
bust of the poet, as white as snow, with the inscrip- 
tion : " This bust was placed amongst the memorials 
of the poets of England by the admirers of an Amer- 
ican poet." 



218 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Perhaps the most interesting portion of the Abbey 
is that which the nine chapels occupy. Within them 
are buried thirteen kings, fourteen queens and scores 
and scores of princes, dukes, lords, bishops and men 
and women of lower rank. 

The largest and most beautiful of all the chapels 
is that which was built by King Henry VII., and bears 
his name. You enter it by ascending a flight of twelve 
black marble steps, and passing through a deep, 
gloomy but magnificent arch, where gates of brass 
swing heavily upon their ponderous hinges to receive 
you. You notice that the gates are adorned with 
roses, in allusion to the fact that the marriage of 
Henry VII. with Elizabeth, daughter of Edward IV., 
united the houses of York and Lancaster and put an 
end to the Wars of the Roses. 

The architectural beauties of this place cannot be 
adequately described. It is a superb structure. It 
consists of a nave and aisles, with five small chapels 
at the east end. The chapel contains about one 
hundred statues and figures. On each side are carved 
choir-stalls in dark oak most beautifully designed 
and executed. Each stall is appropriated to a 
Knight of the Order of the Bath. Each seat bears 
the armorial bearings of its occupants in brass, and 
above each are a sword and banner. This is the 
place where the knights are installed, or initiated. 
Among the banners I saw that of the unfortunate 
Dom Pedro, the banished emperor of Brazil. 

It will interest our Presbyterian friends to know 
that their church creed, which they are now trying 
to revise and amend, was drawn up in this chapel, 
by the Westminster Assembly, in 1643. 

The most conspicuous object in this marvelous 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR. 219 

chamber is the tomb of Henry VII. and his wife 
Elizabeth of York. It occupies the center of the 
eastern part of the chapel, and is surrounded by an 
elegant lattice-work of brass. On the double sarcoph- 
agus lie, on their backs, the figures of the royal 
pair in their robes. 

Other royal personages, buried here, are Edward 
VI., James I., Charles II., William III., the two 
Marys, Anne, Elizabeth, Mary of Scotland, and the 
two little princes who were murdered in the tower. 
I was struck with the fact that those two royal dames, 
who in life hated each other so intensely, Elizabeth 
of England and Mary of Scotland, here sleep, but a 
few feet apart, in tombs almost exactly alike. How 
they will stare at each other when they wake up on 
the morning of the resurrection, and walk, side by 
side, to the judgment throne of God ! There they 
will stand just like common sinners, Mary to answer 
for the murder of her husband and Elizabeth to 
answer for the murder of Mary. I was greatly 
pleased to learn that Westminster Abbey was not 
polluted with the ashes of the infamous Henry VIII. 

The second largest chapel is that of St. Edward 
the Confessor, immediately back of the high altar. 
I have not time to describe if. It contains the tombs 
of six English kings, and three queens. In this same 
chapel is kept the old Coronation Chair, made by 
Edward I. six hundred years ago. I gazed at it with 
rapt attention and reverential wonder. It is a 
clumsy looking affair, of carved oak, with high arms 
and Gothic back. It stands on four lions. The seat 
is double and contains, plainly revealed, a large mass 
of sandstone, called the Stone of Scone. On that 
stone, believed to have been used as a pillow, by 



220 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Jacob, at Bethel, the Kings of Scotland, through 
long centuries, sat to be crowned. King Edward 
stole it, brought it to London and had this chair 
made to contain it. 

Only think ! in this chair, standing out in yonder 
choir, in front of the altar, and covered with gold 
brocade, twenty-six English sovereigns have sat to be 
anointed and crowned. It is the grandest throne on 
this earth, the throne of the monarch who rules one- 
seventh of the territory, and one-sixth of the popula- 
tion, of our globe. 

What would be your feelings if you knew that some 
day, in England's great temple of fame, surrounded 
by the pride and pomp and power of earth's mightiest 
empire, you would sit on that throne in royal purple, 
anointed, crowned and sceptered, with princes, dukes, 
lords, statesmen, generals and bishops kneeling at 
your feet ? I want to tell you that, if you are a 
Christian, an infinitely higher honor than that is in 
store for you. In the book of Revelation, I read 
the words of Jesus Christ, the Eternal Son of God, 
who says to every one of you : " Behold, I stand at 
the door and knock : if any man hear my voice and 
open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with 
him, and he with me." All that is in this world. Jesus 
is now knocking at the door of your heart, unless 
you have already admitted him. If you will open 
the door he will come in, and cleanse and beautify 
your soul, and spread a feast more sumptuous than 
any earthly monarch ever saw, and be your abiding 
guest, and fill you with "joy unspeakable and full of 
glory." 

Now hear what he has promised for the life 
to come " To him that overcometh will I grant to 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR. 221 

sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, 
and am set down with my father, in his throne." 
The simple meaning of this is that, if you become a 
true disciple of Jesus Christ, and hold out faithful to 
the end, in heaven you will be exalted to a seat with 
Jesus Christ on the throne of the universe — a throne 
as much higher and more glorious than England's 
throne as Mt. Blanc overtops and outshines the little 
ant-hill at its base. 

Built up against the south-west corner of the Abbey 
is the Jerusalem Chamber. It is so called because its 
wood work of cedar and its stained glass windows 
were brought from Jerusalem, also because it con- 
tains tapestries depicting the history of that city. 
Henry IV. died in this chamber in 1413. Here all 
the work of King James' translation of the Bible, 
and of the recent revision, was performed. Hither 
are brought the crown jewels from the Tower on the 
day preceding the coronations, and on all public 
occasions. Here many other important events have 
taken place, which I have not time to mention. 

We must immediately leave this " house of the 
Lord" and hurry away to " the king's house." We 
must leave Westminster and London and go to 
Windsor and its castle. In Westminster Abbey twenty- 
seven kings and queens are buried. In Windsor 
Castle many kings and queens have lived. Wednes- 
day, August 13, I spent in Westminster Abbey. 
Thursday, August 14, I took a train on the South 
Western Railroad, at Waterloo station, and rode 
twenty-five miles, west, to Windsor. The route lay 
through as fine a rural landscape as can be imagined. 
Windsor is a beautiful town of twenty thousand 
inhabitants on the south side of the Thames. The 



222 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Castle — the chief residence of Queen Victoria, stands 
on a hill, surrounded by a thick and high ivy- draped 
wall, inclosing perhaps twenty-five or thirty acres. 
Its erection began under William the Conqueror, 
eight hundred years ago, and more. It was 
enlarged and improved by succeeding monarchs, till 
the present one, who has expended, to make it one of 
the most magnificent royal residences in the world, 
the sum of four and a half million dollars. ' 

I first visited, within the castle wall, St. George's 
Chapel, begun in 1474. It looks quite fresh and new 
In it are buried the Queen's father ; Henry VIII 
Jane Seymour, Henry's third wife ; Charles I 
George III ; George IV ; William IV ; and other 
royal personages. It contains splendid monuments 
of persons whose graves are elsewhere, among whom 
are the Prince Imperial of France, the son of Napo- 
leon III. The choir contains the stalls of the Knights 
of the Garter, with their coats of arms and banners. 
Here they are installed. 

This order, founded by Edward III., in 1344, is the 
highest in Great Britain. Its membership includes 
the reigning sovereign, other members of the royal 
family, the principal foreign rulers and English 
peers. Its principal emblem is the garter, worn on 
the left leg just below the knee. It is made of dark 
blue velvet, edged with gold, fastened with a buckle, 
.from which is suspended a pendant, both of gold 
On the velvet is the motto of the Order in gold let- 
ters. The origin of the order is said to be this. At 
a grand ball the Countess of Salisbury, who was 
dancing with King Edward, lost her garter. The 
Lords and ladies, seeing it lying on the floor, began to 
look at each other with indecent glances and laughter. 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR. 223 

Seeing this, the king picked up the garter and hold- 
ing it aloft exclamed : Honi soit qui mal y pense ! " 
which means : " Shame to him who evil thinks ! " 
On the spot he instituted the " Most Noble Order 
of the Garter," and gave it for a motto, the words 
which he had just uttered. 

Next I visited the Albert Chapel, smaller than 
St. George's, but richer and more beautiful. It is a 
magnificent monument of the Queen's love for her 
deceased husband. In its interior, it is one of the 
most beautiful buildings I have ever seen. It is as 
beautiful as marble of every variety, and sculpture, 
and carving, and gilding can make it. Its size is 
sixty-eight feet by twenty eight, and its height sixty 
feet. It contains a most exquisite cenotaph of the 
Prince Consort, whose body lies at Frogmore, a mile 
or two away. 

Next I ascended the Round Tower. It stands on an 
eminence forty-two feet above the court yard of the 
Castle, and rises eighty feet above that, commanding 
a fine view of a perfect English landscape covering 
twelve counties. From the top of the main tower 
rises a smaller one, thirty or forty feet higher. 

There was a great crowd on the lower tower w r ith 
me. We all noticed a company of fifteen or twenty 
persons on the higher tower, and wished to join them. 
But a policeman forbade us, saying that they had 
obtained a special permit. I asked him who they 
were. He said they were Americans. Then he asked 
me if I was not from America. I said, yes. " Well 
then," he added, "if you will wait till the crowd gets 
away, I will let you go up." I waited, and went up. 
So it seems to be everywhere in England. To say : 
" I am an American " is a passport into many places 
which an Englishman cannot enter. 



224 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEE 

The view from that elevation— some two hundred 
feet above the city and surrounding country — is very 
delightful. Come and stand with me and see what I 
see. Running your eyes around the horizon, you 
take in parts of twelve counties. Here at the west, 
among the trees, is the city of Windsor. Through 
the picture, from west to east, runs the silver river. 
Just across on the northern bank is Eaton College, 
one of the most famous of English schools, founded 
by Henry VI. in 1440. It has about one thousand 
students, who wear a uniform of short jackets, broad 
collars and tall .hats. Far away beyond Eaton above 
the trees you see a church spire. That is Stoke 
Poges, the scene of Gray's famous " Elegy written in a 
Country Churchyard." Down at our feet, at the 
northeast and east, lies the Home Park, about four 
miles in circumference, surrounded, on three sides, 
by the winding river. Through the trees to the 
southeast we see Frogmore Lodge, and the 
magnificent mausoleum erected by the Queen to 
her husband, Prince Albert. To the south lies the 
Great Park, of eighteen hundred acres, stocked with 
several thousand deer. Right down here, from 
George IV. 's Gateway, into Great Park, runs the Long 
Walk, an avenue of majestic elms, three miles long. 

Miles away beyond the park we see a little plain 
bordered with forest. That is the far-famed Run- 
nimede, where, in 1215, King John signed the Magna 
Charta — the foundation and beginning of the politi- 
cal liberties of all English-speaking communities. 

West of Great Park lies the famous Windsor For- 
est, fifty-six miles in circumference. Its trees are of 
magnificent growth and great age. It is full of game. 
Here roamed, in the days of yore, the Saxon and the 
Dane ; these glades have echoed to the shouts and 



' WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND WINDSOR. 225 

horns of royal hunting parties, for eight hundred 
years ; hither came Shakespeare to gather material 
for his Merry Wives of Windsor ; and here Queen 
Victoria, when living at the castle, takes her morning 
rides. 

Description of such a scene is impossible. I can 
see it now with the eyes of memory, but cannot picture 
it in words. You must cross the ocean and see it your- 
self. 

From the Round Tower I was conducted through 
the State Apartments of the Castle. I cannot begin 
to describe what I saw. It was splendor, splendor, 
splendor— magnificent rooms, sumptuous furniture, 
precious relics, and paintings by the most eminent 
artists. Chief among the rooms are the Guard Room, 
its walls hung with suits of old armor ; St. George's 
Hall, two hundred feet long and thirty-four wide ; 
the Grand Reception Room, hung with tapestry rep- 
resenting the story of Jason and Medea ; the Queen's 
Audience and Presence Chambers, adorned with 
tapestry representing the story of Esther and Mor- 
decai ; the Old Ball Room, filled with portraits by 
Vandyke ; the Rubens Room, containing eleven 
pictures by that illustrious artist ; and the Throne 
Room, flashing with silver and gold. The Private 
Apartments, which the public are not permitted to 
see, are still more gorgeous and magnificent. 

As I roamed through the magnificent halls, where 
the successive monarchs of earth's mightiest empire 
have dwelt for centuries, I said to myself : What do 
all this splendor and wealth and power amount to, to 
their possessor, if she has not " the pearl of greatest 
price ! " Then the words of the Great Teacher came 
to my mind : " What shall it profit a man, if he shall 
gam the whole world, and lose his own soul ? " Very 



226 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

few persons have ever come as near gaining the 
y whole world as Queen Victoria. We believe that she 
has also gained a title to a heavenly inheritance. 
But if that were not the case, what would all her pos- 
sessions profit her ? What would Windsor Castle 
profit her, if when she leaves it — as she must very 
soon— she should be compelled to remove into the 
gloomy regions of eternal darkness and despair. 

As I close, I want to leave this question with every 
one of you : " What shall it profit a man, if he shall 
^ gain the whole world and lose his own soul ?" There 
are men in this house to-night who are striving to 
gain the whole world, or as much of it as they can, 
and are giving no attention to the salvation of their 
souls. I want to ask them, in all seriousness and 
candor, if they think such an investment will pay. 
They are throwing away every chance for eternal 
happiness and running every risk of eternal misery, 
for the sake of collecting a few earthly treasures, 
which they know they must soon drop at the door of 
the tomb. In pursuing such a course, do they act 
like clear-headed business men ? 

My friend, in a few years, at the farthest, you will 
be in your coffin — that is, your body will be. Your 
coffin will be lowered into the dark earth, and the 
sods will be piled above your grave. The spot will 
be marked with a stone, bearing your name. You 
will not be there to see whether your grave monu- 
ment cost ten dollars, or ten thousand. You — your 
immortal part, your soul— will be far below the grave, 
in eternal darkness, or far above, in eternal light and 
glory and bliss. These are facts which you cannot 
dispute. In view of them, I ask you once more: 
" What shall it profit you if you shall gain the whole 
world, and lose your own soul." 



OXFORD AND STRATFORD. 227 



XIII. 
OXFORD AND STRATFORD. 

" Let us go into the next towns." — Mark i., 38. 

At the close of last Sunday evening's discourse we 
were in the town of Windsor. The next towns to 
Windsor, which are of any special interest to the 
tourist, are Oxford and Stratford. So when I say : 
" Let us go into the next towns," I mean : let us go 
to Oxford, the seat of England's greatest university, 
and Stratford, the place where England's greatest 
poet was born and died. 

Oxford is forty-two miles north-west from Windsor, 
at the junction of the Thames and Chernell. I 
arrived there at five o'clock on the afternoon of 
August 14. Leaving the railway station without 
delay, I hurried in what I supposed to be the direc- 
tion to the college buildings, knowing, that after six 
o'clock every door would be closed. By accident I 
soon found myself in front of Christ Church Col- 
lege, the most extensive and magnificent establish- 
ment in the city, founded by Cardinal Wolsey in 
1525, and refounded by Henry VIIL, in 1532. 

I passed through the lofty and massive tower, 
under "Great Tom," the thirty-first largest bell in 
the world — which, for more than two hundred years, 
has closed every college gate in Oxford, at five min- 
utes past nine at night, by striking one hundred and one 
strokes — and found myself in the great quadrangle. 



228 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Every college in Oxford has its quadrangle — or 
"quad," as it is called for short, — which is simply a 
plat of grass or gravel, of greater or less extent, 
adorned with flowers and fountain, or unadorned, 
surrounded by the buildings of the institution. 
Christ Church quad (264 feet by 261) is the largest 
and noblest of all. Let us stand herein the center 
near this fountain, which, like the students, is enjoy- 
ing a vacation, and look about us. Right at our 
feet is a large, granite-bordered pool, which catches 
the returning water, when the fountain is at play. 
Now it is as motionless and glossy as the most per- 
fect mirror, reflecting our forms and features, and 
supporting around its center a circle of leaves and 
blossoms of the water lily. From the pool radiate 
graveled walks, in all directions, cutting, into many 
parts, what looks like a carpet of exquisite green 
velvet, but which in reality is English turf, an article 
as much superior to our best American turf as the 
best brussels carpeting is superior to the poorest 
ingrain. 

Completely surrounding the square, is a long line 
of massive, old, gray, stone buildings, with battle- 
mented roofs, .and clustered chimneys, and many 
doors and windows, large and small. Here are suites 
of apartments for the President and faculty of the 
college, and rooms for lectures and other college 
exercises. Facing westward, you see the great tower, 
with its arched gateway through which we entered. 
I must tell you more about the great bell up there, 
of which I briefly spoke a few minutes ago. I 
gave you its name — " Great Tom." It weighs 
17,640 pounds. It is three hundred and sixty 
years old. It was melted down and recast, to cure a 



OXFORD AND STRATFORD. 229 

crack, in 1680. For more than two hundred years 
it has never once failed to strike one hundred and 
one strokes every night, at five minutes past nine 
o'clock. It strikes one hundred and one times 
because that was the number of students belonging 
to the college when it received its charter. 

Like that bell all Christians ought to be ; and some 
are. Great Tom is a perfect pattern of Christian 
fidelity. First, he is always in his place, day and 
night, summer and winter, in sunshine and storm, 
year in and year out. The faithful Christian is 
always in his place, unless circumstances, absolutely 
beyond his control, positively forbid. He is in his 
place at the Sunday service and the week-evening 
prayer meeting. He does not stay away because the 
weather is bad, or because he has company, or because 
he got so tired on Saturday, or because a collection 
is going to be taken. If his place in the house 
of God ever is empty, everybody at once concludes 
that he must be seriously sick. He never gets off 
the hooks because the minister does not call upon 
him often enough, or because he hears something 
from the pulpit which he cannot fully endorse. You 
always know where to find him, in his religious 
experience. Every day in the year, he is up in God's 
belfry, above the smut and dust of worldliness and 
sin, and his voice is always clear and strong for 
Christ and for the truth. Everybody likes to hear 
him speak, because there is perfect agreement 
between his profession and his life. 

There are some church-members who are not so. 
You never know where to find them. You cannot 
depend upon them anywhere. They come to church 
when the weather is perfect, and they have nothing 



280 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

else to do, and they happen to feel just like it. They 
are continually flying off the handle, on account of 
something which the minister, or somebody else, has 
done, or failed to do. There is no stability in their 
religious experience. To-day they are up in the top 
of the highest bell-tower, making as much noise as 
ten good, honest, gospel bells ought to make, To-mor- 
row you will find them down in the back alley of sin- 
ful association, with the word "hypocrite" chalked 
upon them by the honest judgment of the world. On 
the third day they will be found in some underground 
receptacle for old iron and brass, sending out, when 
struck, a voice which reminds you of the old hymn : 
"Hark ! from the tombs a doleful sound." Nobody 
has any confidence in their piety, and unbelievers say : 
" If that is Christianity, I never want to be a 
Christian ; I am mean enough already." 

Again Great Tom at Oxford knows when to speak 
and when to be silent. He is not ringing all the 
time, like the bell on a switch engine in a railroad 
yard. But when the clock hands, on the dial, mark 
nine five, past meridian, he speaks out one hundred 
and one notes, so loud and clear that everybody in 
Oxford can hear. He has not failed to do this once 
in two hundred and six years. 

So it is with the faithful Christian. He knows 
how to hold his tongue, and when to hold his tongue. 
There is no brag, or bluster, or slander, or tattling, or 
vituperation in his mouth. But when it is the time 
and place to speak, he always speaks for God, and 
Christ, and virtue, and righteousness, in tones which 
cannot well be misunderstood ; and everybody listens 
with profit and delight. 

One thinar more 'about Great Tom. When he was 



OXFORD AND STRA TFORD. 231 

worn out by a century and a quarter of faithful work, 
he was melted down and recast into a new and better 
bell. So it will be with the faithful Christian. When 
he has served his generation on earth, and has worn 
himself out in his Master's cause, the Great Artisan 
who created the universe will melt him down in the 
crucible of the grave, and recast him in the glory of 
the resurrection morning, and place him in Heaven's 
highest tower, with an innumerable multitude of 
other bells, to ring out the praises of redeeming love 
through all eternity. 

My brother, will you not make up your mind to be 
a faithful Christian, from this night forward — always 
in your place, speaking for God at the right time, 
filling the sphere in which Providence has placed you 
with the sweet melody of a consistent religious life ? 
You may not be able to accomplish any great thing. 
But you can be faithful '; and, if you would dwell 
among the redeemed in heaven, you must be faithful. 
The life which some church-members are living, if 
persisted in, will land them in some other place than 
the city with jasper walls and golden streets. 

Without a guide, and aiming at nothing in partic- 
ular, I crossed the quad and entered the college 
chapel, a grand old Church, the Cathedral of the 
diocese of Oxford. A service was in progress, and I 
sat and tried to worship with a little company led by 
a fine choir and an intoning priest. After the service 
I roamed around the grand, solemn, six-hundred- 
year-old Church, examining the mortuary tablets and 
the tombs, and trying to realize where I was and 
what changes had taken place since those stones 
were laid. One of the most beautiful objects in 
Christ Church Cathedral is the' Bishop's chair, of 



232 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

carved walnut-wood, which cost five thousand 
dollars 

Leaving the Cathedral, I passed through a massive 
gateway out upon Christ Church Meadow, the pride 
of Oxford, and the delight of all tourists. It 
includes fifty acres of luxuriant grass, surrounded by 
a shady walk a mile and a quarter in extent. Skirt- 
ing the meadow on the western side, I reached the 
Thames, here called the Isis, at the point where the 
students have their floating club-houses, their boats 
and their water-arena for practice for the races, 
paid an old boatman a penny to ferry me over. 

I returned, by the way of Folly Bridge, to the 
street which had led me from the station to the col- 
lege, and found lodging in a humble inn bearing the 
sign " Temperance Hotel." The landlady (the chief 
hotel managers and bartenders in England — so far 
as I saw — are ladies) asked me what I would have 
for supper. I did not know. What could I have ? 
She suggested mutton chop, saying that the mutton 
of Oxford was celebrated for its goodness all over 
England. So I took mutton chop, with other things, 
and found that what the old lady had said was 
worthy of belief, if the word toughness were only 
substituted for goodness. 

The next morning, as early as I supposed the col- 
lege gates would be open, I set out to do up Oxford. 
I went back to Christ Church College, passed under 
Great Tom, crossed the great quadrangle and 
ascended to the hall, or dining-room. 

While we are going up the broad oak staircase, I 
will answer some questions which are in your mind, 
at the risk of telling you many things which you 
already know. How large a place is Oxford ? It is 



OXFORD AND STRATFORD. 233 

a city of nearly fifty thousand inhabitants, without 
manufactures, living by trade with the surrounding 
farming country, with members of the University and 
with others whom the University draws to the place. 
The University is a collection of twenty-four col- 
leges. It has its officers and governing boards, con- 
ducts examinations and confers degrees, but gives no 
instruction. 

The colleges, two of which, however, are called 
halls, (a hall is a college without incorporation or 
endowment), were founded all the way down from 
1264 to 1887. The government of each college is 
vested in a presiding officer — called head, dean, mas- 
ter, or otherwise — and several persons called fellows. 
The undergraduate members of the college live 
within college walls ; pay for and furnish their own 
rooms ; eat dinner together, at twenty-five cents 
apiece, in the college refectory ; have their other 
meals from the college kitchen in their rooms, paying 
for what they order ; wear gowns and mortar-board 
caps ; attend chapel and lectures ; take, and pay for, 
private instruction from self-appointed tutors, called 
"coaches;" and pass the University examinations 
and get their degrees, if they can. 

I could not discover that the colleges of Oxford 
are much else than boarding-houses or dormitories. 
There are other students, belonging to no college, 
who live in the city and study for University exam- 
inations and degrees. The membership of the col- 
leges ranges from two hundred and fifty students at 
Christ Church down to twenty-five at some of the 
less popular institutions. I was told that the entire 
number of students during the past academic year 
was three thousand. Every college has — and seem- 



204 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

ingly must have — these three things : a chapel, a hall 
and a library. 

While we have been talking we have been walking, 
and now are at the door of the hall of Christ Church 
College, which we will take as a sample of all the 
" halls," only it is the largest and grandest of the 
twenty-four. It was built in 1529. It measures one hun- 
dred and fifteen feet by forty, and is fifty feet high from 
floor to carved and decorated ceiling. The walls are 
adorned, and well-nigh covered, with the portraits of 
distinguished graduates and patrons of the college. 
Among the latter I noticed Henry VIII. (full length, 
wearing the " garter " around his left knee), Queen 
Elizabeth and Cardinal Wolsey ; among the former, 
John Locke, the present Prince of Wales and Glad- 
stone. The portrait of King Henry was painted in 
1520. Many pictures of graduates are nearly as 
old. Here the students eat their dinners, sitting at 
long tables, running lengthwise through the room ; 
while the fellows eat on a platform, which crosses 
the hall at its upper end. 

As I was leaving the place, I had the delightful 
surprise of meeting an old friend from the state of 
New York, with a large party whom he was conduct- 
ing through Great Britain and the Continent. By 
invitation, I kept with them till I returned to London 
three days later. 

During that Friday I visited eleven colleges, and 
saw the outside of all the others. The ones whose 
interior I inspected were Merton (the oldest), 
Baliol, Exeter, Oriel, New (more than five hundred 
years old), Lincoln, All Souls, Magdalen, Brasenose, 
Corpus Christi, and the one already described. I 
also passed through the Bodleian Library, with its 



OXFORD AND STRATFORD. 235 

400,000 volumes, and saw, externally, the University 
Museum, the Sheldonian Theatre (where the degrees 
are conferred), and an immense modern building 
where the university examinations are held. 

Each of these colleges has some one or more things 
in its buildings, grounds or history, to make it 
famous, Merton has apartments in which King 
Charles I. and his wife once resided, Baliol, founded 
by John Baliol, King of Scotland, to purchase exemp- 
tion from public scourging at priestly hands, stands 
first in literary distinction. Exeter is famed for its 
beautiful chapel, like La Sainte Chapelle in Paris. 
Lincoln is dear to all Methodists because John 
Wesley, a graduate of Christ Church, was once num- 
bered among its fellows. Magdalen is prominent for 
its massive and beautiful tower, and for a delightful 
walk along the river Cherwell, in its garden, known 
as Addison's walk. Brasenose is remembered for a 
huge brass human, or inhuman, nasal organ, which 
projects from over its chief portal. 

A cross in the pavement in front of Baliol College 
marks the spot where the Christian martyrs, Latimer, 
Ridley and Cranmer, were burned at the stake in 
1555 and 1556. In St. Giles Street, not far away, a 
beautiful triangular Gothic monument, seventy-five 
feet high and costing twenty-five thousand dollars, 
holding aloft the statues of the three men, commem- 
orates the event. 

Latimer and Ridley were burned in 1555. They 
were Bishops of the Church of England, the former 
of Worcester, the latter of London. When Bloody 
Mary, the daughter of Henry VIII. and Catharine of 
Aragon, came to the throne, she had these prelates 
arrested and sent to Oxford for trial. Their crime 



236 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

was that they differed from the queen in their relig- 
ious opinions. The issue of the trial was determined 
beforehand. Of course they were found guilty and 
were condemned to be roasted alive. They might have 
saved their lives by recanting their opinions. This 
they would not do. 

The evening before the execution, some of Ridley's 
friends were permitted to visit him in his prison cell. 
One of them offered to sit up with him all night. 
But he refused, saying : " I mean to go to bed, and, 
by God's will, to sleep as quietly as ever I did in my 
life." The next morning, as he was being led to the 
place of suffering, he saw his fellow martyr Latimer 
approaching. He ran to meet him, and, embracing 
him, exclaimed: "Be of good cheer, brother, for 
God will either assuage the fury of the flames, or else 
give us strength to endure them ! " Reaching the 
stake, they both kissed it, and prayed earnestly. 
When they were bound to the stake, and the names 
were devouring their flesh, Latimer said : " Be of 
good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man. We 
shall this day light such a candle, by Gxod's grace, in 
England, as I trust shall never be put out." And so 
their heroic souls went up to heaven. 

Thomas Cranmer was Archbishop of Canterbury, 
the highest dignitary in the English Church. He 
was arrested at the same time as Latimer and Ridley j 
and for the same crime. But his execution did not 
take place till five months after theirs. When 
threatened with death by fire, he weakly yielded and 
signed a recantation of the doctrines which he firmly 
believed. The night following his recantation, he 
suffered the tortures of the stake ten times multiplied. 
In his prison cell he writhed in the flames of a 
remorseful conscience, almost as bad as hell itself. 



OXFORD AND STRA TFORD. 287 

The next day he was led into the church of St. 
Mary Magdalene, which was filled with people who 
had come to hear his public recantation. But, to 
their amazement, he recanted his recantation and 
firmly protested his allegiance to Jesus Christ, as the 
only Head of the Church. Immediately the enemies 
of the truth dragged him to the stake, filling his ears, 
on the way, with insults, jeers and imprecations. On 
the very spot where Latimer and Ridley had died, 
they chained him to the stake, and piled the dry 
fagots up to his waist. But he felt no fear. The 
mighty power of God filled his soul. When the flames 
were dancing and hissing around him, he stretched 
out his right hand, which had signed the recantation, 
and, without flinching, held it in the hottest fire till 
it was burned to a cinder and fell from his arm, 
repeatedly saying as he did so : " This hand hath 
offended —this unworthy right hand." Thus he died, 
sustained by the omnipotent power of the Holy Ghost. 
What, think you ? were my feelings as I stood on 
the very spot where those hideous acts of cruelty 
were perpetrated, and as I looked up at the statues 
of those heroic men of God ? I felt like praying 
that the spirit of Latime*r, and Ridley, and Cranme* 
might come on me, and on my dear people in Amer- 
ica, and on the entire American Church. Brethren, 
if we had that spirit, there would be no complaining 
among us of heavy church burdens, and hard work 
for Christ, and too much money to be raised for the 
support of the gospel. If we had that spirit, revival 
flames would sweep through our congregation and 
through our village. 

Before we leave Oxford I want to remind you that 
it is the birth-place of Methodism. Methodism, as a 



238 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

life, as a principle, as a doctrine, is as old as Chris- 
tianity. As an organism, it came into being in the 
city of Oxford, in the year 1728. At that time John 
Wesley, who was a Fellow, or Professor, in Lincoln 
College and a Priest of the Church of England ; his 
brother Charles, a student in Christ Church College; 
George Whiteneld, a student in Pembroke College; 
and about twenty others — students and teachers — 
formed themselves into a society to read the Bible in 
the original languages, and to aid each other in 
mutual spiritual improvement. They received the 
Lord's Supper weekly and fasted twice a week ; they 
spent much time in prayer and self-examination ; they 
scrupulously attended public worship and all the 
ordinances of the Church ; they visited the inmates 
of prisons and alms houses ; they labored for the 
salvation of their fellow students ; they strove to 
live holy lives and to do all the good they could. 
Their fellows in the University ridiculed their piety 
and called them "Bible-Bigots," the " Godly Club " 
and the " Holy Club." Because of the methodical 
way in which they did everything, they were also 
nicknamed " Methodists." 

That was the humble origin of an organization 
which has been so blessed of God that it has grown, 
and expanded, till now there are nearly six million 
Methodists in the world, and the Methodist spirit and 
lire have largely permeated all the other Churches. 
The Methodists are sometime charged with being an 
ignorant people. That is a slander. The Methodist 
Church was born in the University of Oxford, and it 
has always been the friend and patroness of the 
broadest literary culture. If you ask what Method- 
ism is, I answer, it is cultured intellect, set on fire from 
Jieaven, 



OXFORD AND STRATFORD. 239 

The tourist company of which, for the time, I was 
one, arrived at Stratford-on-Avon at about noon, Sat- 
urday, August 16. On the way from the station to 
the hotel, we passed, after a brief pause before it, 
the exquisite fountain and clock-spire erected, at the 
junction of several streets, by George W. Childs of 
Philadelphia, as a tribute from America to the mem- 
ory of the Bard of Avon. 

One hotel was the Shakespeare House, a quaint 
building, part old, part new, the oldest portion, includ- 
ing the dining-room being a well preserved relic of 
the fourteenth century. The guest rooms are named 
from the titles of Shakespeare's plays. I, with two 
other masculine members of the party, was assigned 
to a spacious and very comfortable apartment, bear- 
ing over its door the words "Two Gentlemen of 
Verona." It at once became a very momentous 
question with all, which of us three were gentlemen, 
and who was the esquire, valet or what else. That 
question has not been answered, and probably never 
will be. 

After a good lunch (dinner rarely comes in Europe 
till the close of the day) we started out to see the 
wonders. Of course, the first place was the " Shake- 
speare House." This is the place where the poet's 
parents lived, where his father carried on the wool 
business, and where he was born. The building, an 
elegant one probably for the time in which it was 
erected, exists in substantially its original condition. 
A few timbers and stones have been put in here and 
there to preserve the structure, and much of the plas- 
tering has been renewed. It is national property, 
and is preserved and guarded with the utmost care. 
To prevent destruction by combustion, no fire or light 
is ever permitted within its walls. 



240 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

A sixpence purchased us admission to all the 
rooms. With something very nearly approaching 
awe, we stood uncovered in the chamber where, April 
23, 1564, the world's greatest literary genius first saw 
the light. We were assured that, excepting the 
window sash and glass, and iron straps fastened to 
the ceiling to keep the plastering from falling off, the 
room was in the same condition as three hundred 
and twenty-six years ago. The panes of glass in the 
windows are scratched all over with autographs by 
the diamond rings of visitors, among-which that of Sir 
Walter Scott is conspicuous. 

One of the rooms is a museum, filled with Shake- 
spearean relics, too numerous even to be named. We 
gazed long and closely at a portrait, said to have 
been painted directly from the bard. We saw the 
jug from which he used to drink water, or some- 
thing stronger. We were permitted to sit half a 
second in a chair, which he used to occupy as 
president of a literary and social club. With all 
gravity and simplicity, the guide showed us an old 
tobacco pipe, which he said Shakespeare would have 
used had he been a smoker. On the wall, in a frame, 
under a glass, we saw a sheet of letter paper on 
which Washington Irving had written, in the birth 
room, these lines : 

" Of mighty Shakespeare's birth the room we see ; 
That where he died in vain to find we try. 
Useless the search ; for all Immortal he ; 
And those who are Immortal never die. 

W. I., Second Visit, October, 1821." 

As we leave the " Shakespeare House " perhaps 

you would like to take a look at its exterior. It is 

built of brick. You cannot see the bricks, however, 

as the walls are plastered all over, and paneled with 



OXFORD AND STRATFORD. 241 

wood, painted black. It has three dormer-windows, 
three doors and a projecting porch on the side 
toward the street. Adjoining the house is a garden, 
in which are carefully cultivated the flowers men- 
tioned in Shakespeare's plays. 

You see that the world's greatest literary giant 
was not born in a palace. When the great All-Father 
comes into the world, bringing a soul of transcendent 
genius, which is destined to shine for ages as a star 
of the first magnitude, he usually puts it into the 
arms of a poor woman in a humble dwelling. His 
own Son, equal to himself, when made in the likeness 
of sinful flesh, first appeared to human eyes in a 
manger -cradle, in a stable, among the cattle and 
sheep, in the village of Bethlehem. 

This ought to teach us not to despise the poor. 
The Holy Book says : " Hath not God chosen the 
poor of this world, rich in faith, and heirs of the 
kingdom which he hath promised to them that love 
him?" The men and women who are to hold the 
places of power and mold society, twenty-five years 
hence, are now children in poor families. You see 
then how suicidal, as well as unchristian and wicked, 
it is for a Church to despise and neglect the poor. 
The Church which' does the most for the poor 
to-day will hold the most commanding place in the 
community to-morrow. 

From the " Shakespeare House " we struck across 
several streets, and out into the country, where, after 
following the narrow path which " Will " used to take 
when he went courting, we came, at the end of a mile, 
to Shottery and to the Anne Hathaway cottage. 

The house stands embowered in green, thatched 
with straw, presenting a very old-time appearance. 



242 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

It is occupied by an old lady, who holds a life lease, 
and her son and family, and a younger lady who acts 
as guide to visitors. The old lady, seventy-seven 
years old, has lived here seventy years, during which 
period she has but once been on a railway train, and 
then only for a very short journey. She is a great 
grand-daughter of a niece of Shakespeare's wife. 
She showed us an old Bible, handed down through 
her father, printed in 1776, 

We saw by the chimney-side the " courting bench" 
so called, the very same on which Will and Anne used 
to sit, more than three hundred years ago. We sat upon 
it by turns ; as also in a chair in the huge old-fash- 
ioned fire-place, where we could look up through the 
sooty flue and see the blue sky. Since the young 
lovers ended their courting, hundreds of thousands 
of visitors, like ourselves, have sat on that rude, 
unpainted settee. The number amounts to more than 
twenty thousand every year. 

Up stairs, in Anne's room, we saw a curiously 
carved bed-stead, four hundred years old, which Anne 
used before and after she became Mrs. Shakespeare, 
and the very same sheets and pillow-cases — we were 
assured — on which she slept. 

We looked out through the window where Anne 
used to hang out the signal for her Will, when the 
coast was clear. 

You must know that Anne's parents considered 
themselves the social superiors of the Shakespeares, 
and were determined that their daughter should not 
marry, or keep company, with such a low-born fellow 
as the son of a wool-comber. So Will was forbidden 
to step foot on Squire Hathaway's premises. But he 
was lying around in the hedge nearly all the time, day 



OXFORD AND SDR A TFORD. 243 

and night ; and whenever the old folks were gone, 
Anne would hang out the signal, and he would enter 
and enjoy the delights of Paradise. I doubt not that 
the young people found their courting all the sweeter 
because of the difficulties which they had to overcome 
to enjoy it. How absurd it seems now that a man 
should object to becoming the father in-law of Wil- 
liam Shakespeare. 

Do you suppose that young man found the distance 
long which divided his home from the cottage at 
Shottery ? Do you suppose that the rain and mud, 
or cold and frost, ever hindered him from keeping his 
engagements with Anne ? Do you imagine that he 
found the hours long which he spent, lying under the 
hedge, watching his sweetheart's window ? "No, no, 
NO ! " everybody exclaims. Why? One word answers 
that question — love. Love makes all distances 
short, all hardships easy, all burdens light. 

Hear that, Christian ! If you loved your Saviour as 
you ought, and as you profess, long distances and bad 
weather would not keep you from his sanctuary, on 
his holy day ; you would not complain of heavy 
burdens, borne in the support of his Church ; your 
constant question would be : " What more can I do 
for him who has done so much for me ? " 

Returning to Stratford, we went to " New Place," 
where the poet spent his last days, and where he died, 
April 23, 1616. The house has disappeared, having 
been demolished in 1759 'by i ts owner, a churlish 
clergyman, to rid himself of paying taxes on so old 
and poor a building. He had previously cut down 
"Shakespeare's mulberry tree," to save himself annoy- 
ance from the multitude of pilgrims who came to 
pluck its leaves. The name of that man — Gastrell — 



244 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

has become a by-word and an execration. But the 
tree has shot up again ; and the foundations of the 
house remain, covered with wire gauze. 

We ate fruit from the tree, drank from the poet's 
well, and stood opposite where a bay window had 
been, just within which the bard wrote his last play : 
"As You Like It," and died. 

Sunday morning, August 17, dawned clear and 
bright. A more delightful place to spend a beautiful 
Sabbath I never saw. We attended service at the 
Church of the Holy Trinity, where Shakespeare is 
buried. The sacred edifice is beautifully situated in 
a beautiful cemetery, on the banks of the lovely Avon, 
approached through the most charming avenue, four 
or five hundred feet long, over-arched by a double 
row of ancient linden trees. Unable to gain admission, 
at that time, to a sight of Shakespeare's grave, we 
returned at four o'clock. Then the great object of 
our visit to Stratford-on-Avon was realized, when, 
standing reverently at the spot in the choir where it 
is certain Shakespeare was buried, we read, on a slab 
in the floor, this strange inscription. 

" Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare 
To digg the dust encloased heree. 
Blese be the man that spares these stones, 
And curst be he that moves my bones." 

That epitaph, written by the man himself, proves 
that mighty Shakespeare believed in the immortality 
of the soul and the resurrection of the body ; for, 
surely, no sound-minded man would care a copper 
what might become of his body, if he really believed 
that death ends all. Shakespeare believed the old 
Bible doctrine as it is taught in the Old Testa- 
ment and the New, that there shall be a resurrection 



OXFORD AND STRATFORD. 245 

of the dead both of the just and the unjust. Job 
said : " I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he 
shall stand at the latter day on the earth ; and though, 
after my skins, worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh 
shall I see God, and mine eyes shall behold, and not 
another." And Jesus said : "The hour is coming, 
in the which all that are in their graves whall hear 
my voice, and shall come forth ; they that have done 
good unto the resurrection of life ; and they that 
have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation." 
The time is not very far distant when the awful 
blast of the resurrection trumpet shall reverberate 
through the solemn arches of Westminster Abbey, 
and Avon's ancient church, and every burial vault, 
and every cemetery, and every battle-field, and every 
ocean cavern ; and every human .being who has ever 
lived will stand, in the same body that died, before 
the great white throne. Some will stand on the right 
and some on the left. " Then the King shall say 
unto them on his right hand, Come ye blessed of my 
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from 
the foundation of the world. Then shall he say also 
unto them on the left hand, Depart, ye cursed, into 
everlasting tire, prepared for the devil and his angels. 
And these shall go away into everlasting punishment ; 
but the righteous into life eternal." 



246 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 



XIV. 
WARWICK AND KENILWORTH. 

" In the forests he built castles." — II Chronicles xxvii, 4. 

It was Jotham, King of Judah, who built castles in 
the forests. The same statement might be made 
concerning many of the early kings of England. " In 
the forests they built castles." 

In the days of the Romans, of the Saxons, of the 
Danes and of the Normans, England was a vast area 
of forest and marsh, with here and there an infant 
city surrounded by a patch of cultivated ground. 
Through the forests roamed savage beasts and bands 
of marauding men, still more savage. As places of 
protection and as ral-lying points against these 
enemies, the kings, and nobles, and great men built 
castles in the forests. They could once be counted 
by hundreds, scattered all over the kingdom. The 
great majority of these buildings have entirely dis- 
appeared, so that not even their sites are known. A 
few remain. Of these, most are in ruins ; here and 
there one, by frequent repairs and improvements, has 
been preserved in more than its original symmetry and 
beauty. 

England is still a land of magnificent forests, pre- 
served from ancient times, to beautify the landscapes, 
and to shelter game for the amusement of royalty and 
aristocracy in the noble sport of hunting. You 



WARWICK AND KENILWORTH. 247 

remember Windsor Forest, fifty-six miles in circum- 
ference. Most of the castles of JEngland, like that at 
Windsor, are surrounded by wide stretches of land 
from which the trees have never been cut, thus 
illustrating the text : " In the forests he built 
castles." 

From boyhood, I had longed to see a castle. As 
there are two famous castles in the vicinity of Strat- 
ford. I resolved that I would not return to London till 
I had seen them. Monday morning, August 18, in the 
tourist company of my Syracuse friend, I started for 
Warwick and Kenilworth castles, eight and thirteen 
miles distant. 

We rode, under a bright sky, in two carriages, 
through a beautiful section of country and along 
a perfect road. O those English roads ! You can 
hardly imagine what they are. I wish you could see 
one of them. It would make you ashamed of the 
so-called roads of your native land, and almost of 
your native land itself. Why ! the poorest back- 
country road in Great Britain is almost, if not quite, 
as good as our best asphalt pavement — without a 
stone, or a rut, or an uneven place, or a pool of water, 
or a spoonful of mud — smooth, solid, hard. Your 
carriage glides along with hardly a vibration, or a 
sound, and, seemingly, with no effort on the part of 
your plump and glossy steeds. 

In this country, when you take a ride, it is one 
continuous jar, and jolt, and quiver, and quake, and 
plunge, and lunge, and rattle, and roar, while your 
garments are coated with dust or spattered with mud, 
the breathless horses are covered with foam and 
sweat. Usually the chief pleasure of a drive in the 
country, in America, is the getting to the end of your 



248 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

journey. How long will our intelligent farmers 
endure to drag their produce to market, over our 
wretched apologies for roads, when a slight increase 
of taxation would secure scientific road-building and 
enable them to haul double loads with half the cost 
of time and wear and tear ? 

We often speak of the Christian life as a road — a 
road to Heaven. The Bible does also. It says in 
one place : " An highway shall be there, and a way, 
and it shall be called the way of holiness ; the 
unclean shall not pass over it ; but it shall be for 
those : the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not 
err therein." The process of building this road is 
described in another place in these words : " Prepare 
ye the way of the people ; cast up, cast up the high- 
way ; gather out the stones." These comparisons 
and similes lose nearly all their meaning to those 
who have never seen anything better than the ordi- 
nary American highway ; but, to one who has 
traveled in the rural parts of England, they are very 
full of force and beauty. 

Many persons think that the Christian life is 
terribly hard and difficult and painful. They think 
that it is like an American highway, full of ruts and 
stones and mud. They are grievously mistaken. 
The true Christian life is like an English road. If 
you will once get into it, and walk in the middle, as 
far from sin and the world as you can, you will find 
that the author of the Book of Proverbs told the 
truth when he said of pure religion : " Her ways are 
ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." 

On the way from Stratford to Warwick, about four 
miles from the former place, we passed, on the left, 
a large and elegant estate, called Charlecote. Back 



IV A R WICK A ND KENIL H T 0R TH. 249 

from the road, peeping through the trees, we could 
see the mansion, built more than three hundred years 
ago. Farther along, bordered by the highway, we 
saw an immense meadow, or park, dotted over with 
groves, and clusters of majestic oaks, among which 
were droves of red deer, numbering many hundreds, 
feeding as quietly and fearlessly as though they had 
been cows or sheep. It was a beautiful sight. 

This Charlecote estate is forever Jinked with the 
name of Shakespeare. In those old days the place 
belonged to Sir Thomas Lucy, a knight and justice 
of the peace. William Shakespeare was arrested for 
killing deer in Sir Thomas' forest. The accuser was 
also the judge, and imposed on the offender a heavy 
fine. The young poacher paid the fine, and then, to 
get even with his persecutor, wrote a stinging lam- 
poon in rhyme and nailed it to Sir Thomas' gate 
post. For this the enraged knight made Stratford 
too hot to hold the saucy poet, who was obliged to 
flee to London. But he had his revenge by holding 
Sir Thomas Lucy up to everlasting ridicule and con- 
tempt, under the name of Justice Shallow, in the 
play which bears the title of the " Merry Wives of 
Windsor." The descendants of Justice Shallow still 
reside at Charlecote. 

The crime which young Shakespeare committed is 
still common in England. It grows out of the 
wretched and cruel land system which has always 
been in vogue in that poor, rich country. I call 
England a poor, rich country because, with immense 
aggregate wealth in the hands of a few lords and 
aristocrats, the masses of the people are miserably 
poor. The soil, of which every man ought to have a 
portion, is held by a few selfish lords-of-the-land ; 



250 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

and immense areas which ought to give bread to the 
toiling millions, are kept as forests, stocked with 
game, for the amusement of kings, and queens, and 
princes, and dukes, and earls, and counts, and 
knights, and so-called gentlemen and ladies of the 
realm. To preserve their game from capture by the 
starving people, the ruling class have been obliged 
to enact and enforce the most barbarous laws. 

Poaching used to be a capital crime. A case is on 
record like this : a poor man, who could not find 
employment, going home to his starving family along 
a forest road, saw a rabbit bounding across his path. 
He caught up a stone and killed the animal. For 
that he was put to death by hanging. To-day if a 
man kills a rabbit in England, after dark, the penalty, 
for the first offense, is imprisonment at hard labor 
for three months ; for the second, six months ; and 
for the third, seven years. If he kills a deer, of 
course the punishment is correspondingly more 
severe. If the nourishing bosom of old Mother 
Earth could be divided up among her children, as it 
ought, England would become, what she has long 
been falsely called, " Merry England." 

The best land-system ever invented is that which 
God gave to the Israelites, through Moses, more than 
three thousand years ago. When Canaan was divided 
among the sons of Jacob, every man received an 
equal share of the soil. What God gave him he 
could never sell. He might pawn it, for a money 
consideration ; but it came back free in the next 
jubilee year. These thoughts came to me, as we rode 
past the mansion and deer-parks of beautiful 
Charlecote. 

Ere long: we were at Warwick. It is a line old 



IV A R WICK / 1 ND KENIL IV( 1R TH. 251 

borough, of twelve thousand inhabitants, the capital 
of the county of Warwick, situated on the river Avon. 
We drove directly to the church of St. Mary, where 
we saw, besides many other interesting sights, the 
tomb of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who fig- 
ures so prominently in Scott's novel called " Kenil- 
worth." On the earl's sarcophagus lies his sculptured 
form in white marble. They say that the face very 
closely resembles the face of the real, living man. 
I carefully eyed the marble, and thought of the man 
who disowned his beautiful and faithful wife, Amy 
Robsart, in the vain hope of becoming the husband 
of Queen Elizabeth, and virtual king of England. 
His love of power brought anguish and death to 
Amy, and shame and misery to himself. W T e did 
not spend much time in the church. We had 
come to. Warwick to see its famous old castle, 
which the son-in-law of King Alfred the Great 
built, in the forest, nearly a thousand years ago. It 
is in a perfect state of preservation, and is the home 
of George Guy Greville, Earl of Warwick. It is 
regarded as the most magnificent of the ancient 
feudal mansions of the English nobility still used as a 
residence. 

The castle and its grounds are beautiful beyond 
description. I wish I could put into words the picture 
which now rises before my mental vision. Up from 
the right, or western bank of the Avon, rises an 
enormous rock.^ Its sides are precipitous or over- 
hanging. Its top is a nearly level area of perhaps 
twenty-five acres. Surrounding this area, and run- 
ning around the edge of the rock, is the castle's outer 
wall — thick, high, old, gray, gracefully irregular, hung 
with creeping ivy, crowned with battlements and 



252 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

pierced with embrasures. Of the space thus enclosed, 
a part is occupied by the inner walls and towers and 
various buildings of the castle, while other portions 
are devoted to lawns, and shaded walks, and gardens 
of exquisite delight, and little groves of venerable 
trees, and a variety of structures deemed essential to 
the comfort of an English lord. The whole is a para- 
dise of beauty, cut off from the noise, and smut, and 
hurry, and worry of the toiling, groaning world, where 
you would almost be willing to spend your life in 
pleasure and rest. 

We approached the castle through an embattled 
gateway called the Porter's Lodge. Immediately we 
found ourselves in a broad, ascending road, three 
hundred feet long, deeply cut through the solid rock, 
lined with clinging moss and creeping ivy, and over- 
arched with the dense foliageof a double row of noble 
trees springing from the top of the ledge. At the end 
of the road, we stood on an arch of stone, spanning 
the unused moat, where once a draw bridge rose to 
shut out enemies and fall to let in friends. To the 
right and left stretched a stupendous line of fortifica- 
tions, firmly rooted to its rocky foundations, and bid- 
ding defiance to the all-subduing power of time. On 
the left was the venerable Caesar's Tower, said to be 
as old as the Norman conquest. Although it 
has braved the ravages of time and the depredations 
of man for more than eight hundred years, it still 
stands as firm as the everlasting rock, from which it 
lifts its hoary head one hundred and forty-seven feet 
toward the sky. Away at the right is Guy's Tower, 
with walls of solid masonry ten feet thick, one hun- 
dred and twenty-eight feet in height. 

Directly in our front was an enormous arched gate- 



ir.lRU VCK z 1 ND KENIL \ J 7 )R Til. 258 

way, flanked with towers, and succeeded by a second 
gateway, with towers and battlements rising far above 
the first. These were formerly defended by two portcul- 
lises — huge gates of timber and iron, sliding up and 
down in grooves cut in the stone. 

Passing the double gateway, where ten brave men 
could withstand ten thousand of their equals, we find 
ourselves in the inner court. The spacious area is 
covered with a carpet of the richest green. On the 
left stands the grand, irregular, castellated mansion of 
the feudal barons of Warwick. In front is the mount 
or keep, clothed from base to summit with trees and 
shrubs. On the right appears the Bear Tower and 
another unfinished tower. The whole range of towers 
and buildings is joined by ramparts and embattled 
walls of amazing thickness, mantled with that lux- 
uriant ivy which no country but England can grow in 
its perfection. Open flights of steps and broad walks on 
the top of the walls form a means of communication 
throughout the wmole fortress. 

The scene is so grand, and so perfectly fascinating, 
that the imagination could suggest no possible 
improvement. We were conducted through the public 
rooms of the castle, entering first a broad hall, through 
a massive door, where is displayed the ancient emblem 
of the Earls of Warwick— a black bear standing erect, 
grasping a ragged staff. 

The rooms, which we visited, are elegant in their 
construction, magnificent in their furnishings and rich 
in their relics and works of art. I will mention a few 
of the rooms, and one in five hundred of the objects 
of interest. In the Great Hall they showed us the 
sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, walking-stick and 
tilting pole of Guy, Earl of Warwick, who flourished 



254 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VET 

a thousand years ago, if he ever lived at all. The 
sword is a huge affair which an ordinary man could 
hardly lift. The other articles named correspond in 
size with the sword. We also saw Guy's " porridge 
pot," about as large as the largest wash-tub of a 
modern house-wife. Standing in the Great Hall, and 
looking west, we could see, at a glance, a grand suite 
of state rooms extending in a straight line three hun- 
dred and thirty-three feet. Far away at the other 
end, we seemed to see a man on horseback riding 
down upon us. Going forward to meet him, we found 
that it was an equestrian portrait of King Charles I., 
by the greatest of all portrait-painters Vandyke. 
The illusion was perfect. It did not look like a pict- 
ure. From every position, near and remote, it looked 
like a real man, on a real horse. Vandyke has about 
twenty pictures in Warwick Castle. 

In the Red Drawing Room are many paintings by 
such artists as Vandyke, Rubens and Raphael, and 
much exquisite furniture. The Cedar Drawing Room 
is rilled with mirrors and vases and paintings and 
statues. Chief among the last I noticed, with pleasure 
and pride, an exquisite bust of Proserpine by Hiram 
Powers, the great American Sculptor, who carved the 
famous Greek slave. 

The Great Dining Room is a magnificent apart- 
ment where any monarch might be proud to banquet. 
Its wall and ceiling flash with gold. Among the 
many works of art which it contains, are two tawny 
lions, created by the brush of the immortal Rubens, 
which seem about to spring upon you from the canvas, 
where they have been crouching for more than two 
centuries. What a wonderful artist he was who gave 
such life to these painted brutes, transforming coarse 



WARWICK AND KENIL WOR TH. 255 

cloth and earthy pigments into bristling hair and 
vibrating tails, and throbbing chests, and fire-flashing 
eyes ! Rubens was a most busy and prolific worker, 
as well as a most transcendent genius. When he 
died, he left behind him eighteen hundred pictures — 
most of them very large — embracing almost every 
conceivable subject. 

The Boudoir is a lovely little room, forming the 
western extremity of the suite of rooms. The pros- 
pects from the windows are extremely fine, and the 
walls are studded with rare paintings. There w r ere 
two which made a very deep impression upon my mind. 
They were portraits by Vandyke. Onewas % a beauti- 
ful innocent boy, who looked the very personification 
of gentleness, purity and love. It would do your 
soul good to look at such a face ; it would awaken 
all the good influences which might be slumbering in 
your heart. The other picture was a coarse, corpulent, 
brutal, cruel man. In his face you could see a little 
of the man with much of the hog, the hyena and the 
tiger. It was a most repulsive face, from which you 
would quickly turn away in horror and disgust. 
What was my amazement when I learned that the 
two were one. They were both portraits of King 
Henry VIII. They were Henry Tudor, as a boy and 
as a man. W T hat a contrast ! what a transformation ! 
What was it that changed the beautiful boy into the 
beastly man ; the gentle prince into the cruel tyrant ; 
the angel into the devil ? It is the unanimous ver- 
dict of the most reliable historians that Henry was a 
most amiable and promising boy, and a most unprin- 
cipled and infamous man. What was it that wrought 
such a marvelous change? I think you can all 
answer that question. It was sin. Sin changed the 



256 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

bright, pure, angelic child into the ugly, wicked, 
devilish man. Sin will work a similar change in 
your character, if you give yourself up to its cruel 
domination. It will blast, and blacken, and destroy 
your immortal soul. It will obliterate the image of 
God, and, through all eternity, transform you more 
and more into the likeness of the prince of devils. 
The supreme need of every human soul is deliver- 
ance from the guilt and power and pollution of sin ? 
Denied admission to the private rooms of the Earl 
and Countess of Warwick, we roamed through the 
extensive lawns and gardens, which are bounded by 
the outer castle walls. In the conservatory we saw 
the largest vase in the world. A man was there to 
tell us all about it in the broadest English brogue. 
He called vase "vazvs." He had it over and over 
again "raws," "vaws," "z>aws." This vase is one of 
the greatest wonders, of the kind, in the world. It 
was found at the bottom of a lake at Hadrian's Villa, 
near Trivoli, in Italy, by Sir William Hamilton, then 
ambassador at the court of Naples, and by him 
presented to the Earl of Warwick, who placed it in 
its present position. It is circular in shape and is 
capable of holding four barrels. It has two large 
handles formed of interwoven vine branches, from 
which the tendrils, leaves and clustering grapes spread 
around the vessel's brim. The middle of the swelling 
body is enfolded in the skin of a panther, with the 
head and claws perfectly finished. Above these are 
the heads of satyrs, bound with garlands of ivy. The 
whole rests upon vine leaves, which climb high up its 
sides. All that I have described is carved as deli- 
cately as any vase on a lady's drawing-room table. 
And the greatest wonder is that the whole is cut out 



WARWICK AND KENIL WOR TH. 257 

of one piece of snow-white marble. It is a vessel of 
honor, gazed at, in admiration, by tens of thousands 
of visitors every year. It reminds me of St. Paul's 
words to Timothy : "In a great hou^e " — that is in a 
castle like that at Warwick — " there are not only 
vessels of gold and of silver, but also of wood and of 
earth ; and some to honor and some to dishonor. If 
a man therefore purge himself from these "—that is 
from the sins which the Apostle has been enumerat- 
ing — " he shall be a vessel unto honor, sanctified and 
meet for the master's use, and prepared unto every 
good work." It ought to be the ambition of every 
Christian to be such a vessel, in God's castle, the 
Church, — I mean in spiritual dimensions, and beauty, 
and perfection — as the Hamilton Vase is in the castle 
of the Earl of Warwick. My brother, why should 
you be willing to remain a little shallow basin, as you 
were at your conversion, when, by the grace of God, 
and by watching, and prayer, and earnest work, you 
might grow up into the largeness, and beauty, and 
usefulness of a vessel of honor, " meet for the mas- 
ter's use and prepared unto every good work" ? 

We descended into the deep, dark, dismal dungeons 
of the castle, under Cassar's Tower, and thought of 
the wretched victims of tyranny who had there 
dragged out their lives, hidden from friends and the 
light of day. Many rude drawings, traced on the 
walls, sent a pang through my heart, as I imagined 
the poor wretches thus trying to amuse themselves 
and to while away the long days and years of an 
almost hopeless captivity. I thanked God that the 
world has grown better, and is growing better, under 
the purifying influences of Christ's religion of gentle- 
ness and love. 



258 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Then I thought of another dungeon, deeper and 
blacker and viler than the dungeon of Warwick 
Castle. In it is confined every drunkard, and every 
gambler, and every profane swearer, and every liber- 
tine, and every impenitent sinner. The name of 
that prison is sin. The jailer is Satan. The chains 
with which he binds his captives are evil habits. 
Their condition is wretched in the extreme ; but, as 
long as life lasts, they are prisoners of hope. Jesus 
Christ has ransomed them, every one. He died to 
make them free. If they will assert their right to be 
free, and cry to him for deliverance, he will come 
and set them free. As his messenger, I come to the 
prison to-day, and, putting my mouth close to the 
only loophole through which any light or sound can 
penetrate, I shout down to them : 

" Ye slaves of sin and hell, 

Your liberty receive, 
And safe in Jesus dwell, 

And blest in Jesus live : 
The year of Jubilee is come ! 
Return, ye ransomed sinners, home." 

From Warwick we drove to Kenilworth. On the 
way we passed Blacklow Hill, on whose summit, 
through the trees, we saw a white monument, mark- 
ing the spot where Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, 
the unprincipled favorite of Edward II., was beheaded, 
five hundred and eighty years ago, by the Earl of 
Warwick, who hated Gaveston for having fixed on 
him the epithet of "The Black Hound of Arden." 
Lust, and avarice, and selfish ambition, and revenge 
were the motives which impelled almost everybody 
in those old bloody times. That we are less wicked 
than our forefathers, is because the principles of 
the gospel of Christ have a wider and deeper influ- 
ence now than they had then. 



IV A R WICK A ND KENIL IVOR TH. 250 

From Warwick to Kenilworth the distance is five 
miles. We dined in the village, at " The King's 
Arms Hotel," where we saw, unchanged, the room in 
which Scott planned, and partly wrote, his " Kenil- 
worth." Then we drove about a mile to the castle. 
Although it is in ruins, it is surpassingly beautiful. 
It is full of interest to the student of history. 
Founded among the forests, nearly a thousand years 
ago, and restored and improved times almost without 
number, it has witnessed princely and royal pageants, 
rung with the songs and shouts of bridals and ban- 
quets, smothered the shrieks and groans of illustrious 
prisoners, resounded with the tramp of embattled 
warriors, and hurled defiance and death at besieging 
armies. 

Kenilworth's most lasting fame comes from the 
story of Lord Leicester and Amy Robsart. Leicester, 
whose real name was Robert Dudley, was the favorite 
of Queen Elizabeth. She gave him Kenilworth 
Castle and made him Earl of Leicester ; and gave 
the world and him reason, to believe that she intended 
to ask him to share her throne. Meanwhile he had 
decoyed from her home, and married, Amy Robsart, 
the beautiful daughter of a country squire, whom he 
kept in concealment in Cumnor Castle, near Oxford. 
Love prompted him to acknowledge her as his wife ; 
ambition, and his servant Varney, prompted him to 
hide, or kill her, that be might be free to marry the 
queen. 

Leicester entertained Elizabeth and her court at 
Kenilworth, many days, with more than royal splen- 
dor. Amy went to the castle in disguise during the 
festivities. In the garden, one morning, she met the 
queen and implored her protection against Varney, 



260 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEE 

who, to screen his master, claimed to be her husband. 
Amy denied this relationship, but dared not tell the 
whole truth, lest she should displease and endanger 
her lord. The queen was enraged at Leicester, who, 
by his silence, had assented to Varney's lie, and 
threatened to cut off his head ; but was appeased 
with the story that Amy was insane. 

Varney, without Leicester's knowledge, hurried 
Amy back to Cumnor Castle, and confined her in a 
chamber, at the summit of a tower. Between 
the chamber door and the top of the stairs was a sec- 
tion of flooring hung on hinges over a chasm which 
went down, perhaps, a hundred feet to the castle's 
vaults. Varney left the door unlocked, telling Amy 
that her husband, Lord Leicester, would soon come 
to see her. Leicester had a peculiar whistle with 
which he was accustomed to signal his approach. 
Dropping the drawbridge and hiding near, Varney 
whistled like Leicester. With a cry of joy, the 
loving woman threw open the door and bounded out, 
to cast herself into her husband's arms. It was not 
a loving husband, but grim death, whose embrace 
she felt. There was a rushing sound — a heavy fall— 
a faint scream — and all was over. 

I had seen Amy's grave in the Church of St Mary, 
at Oxford. Now I was at the gate of the ruined castle, 
over which, in its splendor, she ought to have pre- 
sided, as its lawful mistress. Above the gate I read 
the initials " R. D." — Robert Dudley. Within, cov- 
ering an area of seven acres, I saw the most beautiful 
desolation. There were long lines of crumbling 
walls, half-demolished towers, scattered columns and 
huge masses of shapeless stones. And then Nature, 
as if ashamed of the nakedness of ruined art, had 



WARWICK AND KENILWORTH. 261 

hung every turret, and buttress and wall with a lux- 
uriant growth of the most beautiful ivy. 

Against one wide expanse of masonry, I saw a 
mantle of green which must have been seventy-five 
feet high and fifty feet broad, growing from a stem 
as large around as the body of a man. 

On the right we saw Caesar's Tower — a perfect 
example of ruined grandeur. Further on was the 
kitchen, now represented only by two or three arches 
and parts of foundations. Still beyond, we climbed 
what remains of Mervyn's Tower. We stood in the 
chamber where poor Amy Robsart was concealed 
during the festivities, and, looking through a narrow 
window, down upon the ground where Leicester had 
his Garden of Eden, saw the place where she threw 
herself upon her knees, imploring the protection of 
the queen. 

Adjoining Mervyn's Tower, on the south, we saw 
the Great Banqueting Hall where Leicester feasted 
Elizabeth and her court so many days. It must have 
been a noble room. The floor is gone, although a 
row of huge pillars on which it rested remains. The 
lofty windows are there, filled with tracery ; the 
paneled spaces between ; and the richly ornamented 
fire-places on both sides. Where are the hundreds 
and thousands who used to roam over these grounds, 
and feast in this banqueting hall, and lodge in these 
ruined chambers — kings, queens, lords, ladies, knights 
and men at arms ? Gone, gone, forever gone ! Gone 
to answer, at the judgment bar of God, for the deeds 
done here in the body. We are part of an endless 
procession, following them into the dim realm of 
shades. Let us live as those who realize that we 
must answer before the Eternal Judge for every act 



262 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

and word, and thought. Thoughts too big for utter- 
ance filled my soul, as I left Kenilworth that evening, 
and rode back to London behind the iron horse. 

Speaking of the castles of Old England, I am 
reminded that God has a castle. It is larger, and 
grander, and stronger, and more beautiful than any 
that man can build. In the forests, kings and barons, 
long since dead, built the castles of England. The 
ever-living God built his castle in the midst of the 
forest of sin. You call this world beautiful, and, 
physically, it is. But, in a moral and spiritual sense, 
it is overgrown with a dense forest of the upas trees 
of sin. There are many large and small clearings of 
cultivated fields ; but the forests are much larger 
than the vineyards and gardens. Through the forest 
swarm vast numbers of ravenous beasts, among 
which is one of gigantic size and marvelous cunning 
and power, named the Devil, that " as a roaring lion 
walketh about seeking whom he may devour." 

In this forest of sin we were all born, and here we 
must perish, had not a God of infinite love and 
power provided us a place of refuge and defense. On 
the rock of eternal truth he has builded a castle, into 
which we are invited and entreated to flee. Its walls 
are righteousness. Its towers are salvation. Its encir- 
cling moat is the River of Life. Its only gate is 
Christ. Its drawbridge is repentance. Its portcullis 
is faith. The banner which floats above its highest 
turret is emblazoned with the blood-red cross of 
universal redemption. Within its walls, which all 
earth and hell cannot batter down, or scale, or pierce, 
or undermine, or shake, every soul may find salvation 
from the guilt, and power, and pollution, and conse- 
quences of sin ; from the dread of death ; from every 



WA R WICK A ND KENIL I FOR TH. 203 

tormenting fear ; from every gnawing care ; from 
every form and shape of real, essential evil. Abiding 
there, you will be as safe, as though you were actually 
within the jasper walls of Heaven itself. 

I am sent out to invite you to come into the castle 
of God to-night. Leave all behind. Abandon the 
dark forest of sin. Throw down the burdens of self 
and the world which you are trying to carry. Plant 
your feet firmly on the drawbridge of evangelical 
repentance. Pass under the portcullis of faith. 
Enter the gate — Christ ; and be at rest. Behind 
you are the wild-beasts and robbers of lust and 
temptation. You have not a moment to lose. Hell 
is barking at your heels. Fly for your life. Fly ! 
fly ! fly ! 



264 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN 1 RAVEL. 



XV. 
EDINBURGH AND SCOTLAND. 

"A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid." — Matthew v., 14. 

That this statement applies to Edinburgh, the 
capital of Scotland, you must believe on my testimony, 
till I can get you there and let you see for yourself. 

I returned to London, from Kenilworth, Monday 
evening, August 18. The next day the tourist com- 
pany, which had left me at Rome twenty-five days 
before, arrived from Holland. The sight-seeing of 
the succeeding five days I have already given in my 
second discourse upon London. 

Sunday morning, August 24, my ministerial travel- 
ing companion and myself went to City Road Chapel, 
the mother of all the Methodist churches of the 
world. There were Methodist churches before this ; 
but it took the place of the first one ever erected, it 
was the acknowledged center of the work which John 
Wesley carried on, and it is the oldest existing 
Methodist house of worship. It was erected in 1778, 
under the direct supervision of Mr. Wesley himself. 
It is a large, plain, stone building, without spire or 
tower, with galleries on two sides and one end. 
Back of the pulpit is a curved recess, divided into an 
upper and lower section. In the upper section are 
three pictured windows of stained glass. In the one 
at the left hand is Paul preaching before Agrippa. 



EDINBURGH AND SCOTLAND. 2Gr> 

You remember the story. Paul preached with such 
earnestness and divine power that the king cried 
out : " Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian ! " 
Paul's reply was : " I would to God, that not only 
thou, but also all fhat hear me this day were both 
almost, and altogether such as I am, except these 
bonds." On the right hand window is Elijah going 
up to heaven in a chariot of fire, while his mantle is 
falling upon Elisha in the person of our Bishop 
Simpson. This window was erected by the contribu- 
tions of many American Methodists. In the center 
is John Wesley preaching to representatives of all the 
nations of the world. On the right of the recess are 
memorial tablets — Charles Wesley, the poet of 
Methodism ; Adam Clarke, its greatest commenta- 
tor ; and Thomas Coke, the first American Bishop. 
At the left are similar tablets— John Wesley, at the 
top; John Fletcher, in the middle ; and Joseph Ben- 
son at the bottom. The walls, nearly all around the 
room, are lined with memorial tablets. The service 
was conducted by an old supply minster, who read 
the Church of England service very feelingly and 
preached a good spiritual sermon. 

After service we introduced ourselves to the 
preacher, and were led into the vestry, where we 
were invited to sit by turns in a chair which Wesley 
used to own and use. In the rear, and on either side, 
of the church is an old cemetery. Next to the street is 
a monument to the mother of the Wesleys, one of the 
most gifted women who ever lived. Her body rests 
in another place'. John Wesley is buried in the rear 
of the church. 

With emotions of the deepest reverence and 
gratitude, I, a Methodist of the fourth generation, 



266 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

stood at the grave of the founder of Methodism and 
my spiritual ancestor. There sleeps the mortal part 
of a man, who, during the fifty years of his itinerant 
ministry, traveled two hundred and twenty-five thou- 
sand miles, preached more than forty thousand ser- 
mons and wrote and published books enough to fill 
the shelves of a good-sized library. Looking at his 
traveling, we wonder how he found time to write. 
Looking at his books, we wonder how he found time 
to preach. 

Of course, we Methodists call Wesley a great man. 
Lord Macauley, the great historian, who was not a 
Methodist, says of Wesley : " He was a man whose 
eloquence and logical acuteness might have rendered 
him eminent in literature ; whose genius for govern- 
ment was not inferior to that of Richelieu ; and who 
devoted all his powers, in defiance of obloquy and 
derision, to what he sincerely considered the highest 
good of his species." Henry Thomas Buckle, the 
distinguished author of the " History of Civilization 
in England " styled him " the first of theological 
statesmen." 

Just south of the church and cemetery is the old 
parsonage, which was Wesley's home when in London 
and is now the home of the pastor of City Road 
Chapel. We were not permitted to go in ; because 
the day was the Sabbath. So we had to content 
ourselves with looking at the outside of the house 
where John Wesley peacefully drew his last breath, 
at 10 o'clock in the morning, March 2, 179T, in the 
eighty-eighth year of his age. His" very last word 
was u farewell." Just before he expired he repeatedly 
said : " The best of all is, God is with us." 

Directly across the street from City Road Chapel 



EDINB UR GH A ND SCO TLA ND. 367 

is Bunhill Fields Burial Ground, where we stood by 
the graves of John Bunyan, Isaac Watts, Susannah 
Wesley (the mother of John and Charles) and Daniel 
Defoe. Over Bunyan's grave is a large block of 
stone, on which lies his image in stone. On one side 
of the base is a pilgrim, bearing a heavy bundle ; on 
the other side is the same pilgrim losing his burden 
at the cross. Defoe's monument was erected by the 
contributions of seventeen thousand boys and girls 
of England, who had read his " Robinson Crusoe." 

The next day we took our journey to Scotland. A 
ride of nine hours and twenty minutes, and three 
hundred and fifty-seven miles, brought us to Melrose, 
whose celebrated Abbey we stopped to visit. This 
edifice was erected in 1156. While standing in its 
original splendor, it was the finest structure in Scot- 
land. It has been twice destroyed by fire, and twice 
rebuilt. Its final demolition was effected by the 
hands of the Reformers, under John Knox. It is 
now regarded as the most beautiful ruin in the world. 
Of course, you understand that its demolition is not 
complete. Enough remains to give you an idea of 
the matchless beauty of the perfected building ; and 
enough is wanting to make you blame the mistaken 
zeal of the stern old Presbyterians, who destroyed 
what they could not admire. The place holds many 
tombs, among which is that of Walter Scott's " Last 
Minstrel." 

From Melrose, we drove two miles and a half, 
through a most beautiful section of country, to Drys- 
burgh, another ruined Abbey, on the other side of the 
river Tweed. There we saw the tomb of Scott. 
Thence we drove back, across the Tweed, four miles 
and a half, to Abbottsford, the famous mansion built 



268 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

by Scott, his residence for many years, and the place 
where he died. It is a grand and beautiful edifice, 
built somewhat in the style of an ancient castle. It 
is now the home of the great author's granddaughter. 
By the payment of a shilling a head, we gained 
admission, and were conducted through all but the 
private rooms of the family. We visited the study, 
the library, the parlor and other apartments, richly and 
curiously furnished and adorned. Many curiosities 
were shown us, among which were Rob Roy's mallet, 
the cross which Queen Mary of Scotland carried to 
her execution, and a blotter which had belonged to 
the great Napoleon. 

Standing here in the place where one of the world's 
greatest literary geniuses died, let me tell you some 
things about him, which perhaps you do not know. 
He was born one hundred and twenty years ago. At 
the age of eighteen months, he became incurably 
lame in the right leg. He grew up, went through 
college and studied law. Not liking the practice of 
law, he devoted himself to literature. At the age of 
thirty he startled and electrified the world witti his 
first great poem, the "Lay of the Last Minstrel." 
"Marmion " and the " Lady of the Lake " came soon 
after, and established him, in the judgment of the 
world, as the greatest living poet. 

About this time he became a member of a printing 
firm, which, failing shortly after, involved him in 
debt to the amount of over two hundred thousand 
dollars. In this emergency he acted like a man and 
a Christian. He did not try to sneak out from under 
his obligations ; but insisted that they should lie 
upon him, and pledged the labor of his future to the 
payment of every legitimate claim. Then he went 



EDINBURGH AND SCOTLAND. 2G9 

to work, with all his might, and, in a surprisingly 
brief space of time, produced that extraordinary 
series of about twenty large works, known as the 
" Waverly Novels." They seemed to fly off from his 
brain and fingers, like sparks from a blacksmith's 
anvil. 

When the last book was finished, and the copyright 
sold, he was able to put in the hands of his creditors 
the sum of two hundred thousand dollars, which he 
had earned with his pen in two years. It was a 
tremendous exertion, put forth in the midst of great 
domestic sorrow — the death of his wife, to whom he 
was passionately devoted-- and cost him his life. But 
he died a free man— free from the disgrace of debt. 
He went abroad for his health, but grew rapidly 
worse. He was anxious to get home. His wish was 
gratified. He reached Abbottsford in July, 1832, and 
died September 21. 

Just before his death he desired to be drawn into 
his study and to be placed by the window, where he 
might look out upon the beautiful Tweed. To his 
son-in-law, Lockhart, he expressed a wish that he 
would read to him. " From what book shall I read ? " 
said he. " Do you ask that question ? " said the 
dying potentate of the realm of literature." There is 
only one book. I want the Bible ; read to me from 
that." Lockhart read the fourteenth chapter of 
John, which begins : " Let not your heart be troubled : 
ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's 
house are many mansions : if it were not so I would 
have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." 
The sick man listened with intense interest, and 
when the chapter was finished, said : "Well that is a 
great comfort." And so he died, believing in God, 



270 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

believing in the Bible and believing in Jesus Christ. 
Who dares to say that the Christian religion is fit 
only for weak-minded men, timid women and imma- 
ture children ? 

A railroad ride of thirty seven miles brought us 
from Melrose to Edinburgh, which is three hundred 
and ninety-four miles from London. Edinburgh has 
been a city for about a thousand years. Its present 
population is two hundred and thirty thousand. It 
is picturesquely situated about a mile south of the 
Frith of Forth, a broad inlet from the North Sea. 
It is remarkable for the elegance and solidity of its 
buildings, which are all of stone. 

Edinburgh is a " city set on a hill," in three respects. 
First, the oldest and most interesting portion of the 
town is literally located on a lofty elevation, which 
commands a magnificent view of the surrounding 
territory for many miles. Again, it is " a city set on 
a hill," whose " light cannot be hid," in the sense 
that it is an important center of learning, and is dis- 
tinguished for the number and excellence of its liter- 
ary, scientific and educational institutions. Here is 
the celebrated University of Edinburgh, founded in 
1582, with a library of 140,000 volumes. The literary 
and professional men "compose a large proportion of 
the population of the city ; and its chief business is 
the printing and publishing of books. The intellect- 
ual light of the capital of Scotland shines to the 
most distant parts of the known world. 

Once more, in a religious point of view, Edinburgh 
"is a city set on a hill." It is very conspicuous among 
the cities of the world, because of the religious habits 
and character of its people and the surprising num- 
ber and great ability of the divines and theologians 



EDINB UR GH A ND SCO TLA ND. 2 7 1 

whom it has produced. It has one church for every 
two hundred of its people. Most of the churches are 
of the Presbyterian order. Almost everybody goes 
to church. It is considered a disgrace not to attend 
some place of worship on the Lord's day. In the 
hotel where our company was entertained, family- 
prayer is conducted every morning by the proprietor, 
and all the guests are invited to take part in the wor- 
ship. 

Edinburgh is a very beautiful city. Taking into 
account its picturesqueness of situation, as well as its 
buildings and monuments, I must agree with the 
unanimous verdict of travelers, with whom I have 
conversed, that it is the most beautiful of European 
cities. Imagine yourself to be standing on Princess 
Street, one of the main thoroughfares of the city. 
The street runs east and west. You are looking 
south. Behind you is the new town. In front is 
the old town. Between the two is a deep valley, 
which, up to your feet, is laid out in an exquisite 
garden, or park, stretching off to the east and west. 
Along the bottom of the valley runs the rail-road, 
with a large depot off at your left. Princess Street, 
on the side toward the valley, has no buildings, the 
park coming up to the side-walk, with a beautiful 
iron fence between. 

In the park, just before you, rises a beautiful Gothic, 
brown stone monument to the memory of Sir Walter 
Scott. It is two hundred feet high. The base forms 
an arched canopy, under which is a large marble 
statue of Scott, in a sitting posture, with his favorite 
dog at his feet. From base to pinnacle, the monu- 
ment, or spire, is ornamented with Gothic niches, each 
holding the statue of a hero or a heroine described 



272 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

by Scott in his poems or novels. I ascended the 
monument by an interior winding stair-case of 
two hundred and eighty seven steps. I went up one 
hundred and eighty feet, as high as any one can go. 
A gentleman, residing in the city, was my guide, here 
and in many other places, and pointed out from the 
top of the monument every important building in 
sight. 

Resuming our places in Princess Street, and look- 
ing southward, we see, in. the park near the street, a 
statue, on a pedestal, of David Livingston. Across the 
garden-valley rises a hill, covered with buildings. 
Far away at the left, the hill begins, as low down as 
our standing place. From thence it rises gradually, 
till, a quarter of a mile further east than the spot 
where we are standing, it is an eminence nearly four 
hundred feet high. From thence if falls off almost 
perpendicularly in all directions but one. Right 
there stands the Castle. Away at the east, where the 
hill begins, are Holy Rood Abbey and Palace. 
Between them and the Castle, on the ridge or back- 
bone of the hill, runs a street parallel to Princess 
Street, and bearing three names. Its eastern end is 
Canongate ; its western end is Lawn Market ; its 
middle portion is High Street. 

Across the valley stretch two or three bridges. At 
our right, quarter of a mile away, is the Mound — a 
causeway of earth and masonry thrown across the 
valley — with a tunnel under it for the rail-road. On 
the mound are two fine buildings — the National Gal- 
lery and the Royal Institution. 

Now turn your face to the east and walk along 
Princess Street. You pass many fine buildings, till, 
in less than half a mile, you come to Calton Hill, 



ED TNB UR GH A ND SCO TLA ND. 278 

Ascending to an elevation of, perhaps, one hundred 
feet, you find many noble buildings. They are the 
Royal Observatory, which I did not enter ; Prof. 
Playfair's Monument, a beautiful little Doric temple ; 
Nelson's Monument, one hundred and two feet high, 
which I ascended by a spiral stair-case of one hun- 
dred and seventy-eight steps ; Dugald Stewart's 
Monument ; and the National Monument. 

This last was commenced in 1822, by King George 
IV. and was intended to be a copy of the Parthenon 
at Athens. The King's architects told him that it 
would cost a quarter of a million dollars. After sixty 
thousand dollars had been expended, and about a 
dozen columns had been erected, the work was 
abandoned. It looks like a beautiful ruin. It reminds 
me of the words of Christ : " Which of you, intend- 
ing to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and count- 
eth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it ? 
Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is 
not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock 
him, saying ' this man began to build, and was not 
able to finish.' " 

King George began to build the National Monu- 
ment, without accurately counting the cost, and was 
not able to finish it. Many a man begins the Chris- 
tian life, without counting the cost. He thinks he 
can serve God and Mammon at the same time, carry 
heaven in one hand and the world in the other. By 
and by, when he finds that it takes all there is of a 
man to be a Christian, he concludes that he cannot 
afford to expend so much on a Celestial mansion, and 
abandons the undertaking before it is quarter fin- 
ished. He makes himself a laughing stock to angels 
and men. Hear what the Great Teacher says in con- 



274 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

elusion : " Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh 
not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple." 

Returning to our old stand in Princess Street, and 
looking south, as before, we see a high hill, or 
mountain, rising in two ridges beyond Castle Hill. 
The first ridge is called the Crouching Lion, from a 
fancied resemblance to the king of beasts at rest. 
The second ridge, eight hundred and twenty-two 
feet above the sea level, and. more than seven hundred 
above the spot where we are standing, is Arthur's 
Seat. 

The morning after our arrival in Edinburgh the 
entire party started out for a ride in two carriages 
called breaks. A break is a large four-wheeled con- 
veyance, with a body like a square piano, without its 
legs, only much longer. The seats, from four to six 
in number, are raised above the box, which opens only 
at the rear end to receive baggage. As the seats are 
very high above the ground, they offer a fine oppor- 
tunity to view the country through which one may be 
riding. 

We rode out into the country, west and north, nine 
miles to view a new rail-road bridge across the Frith 
of Forth. It is more than a mile and a half long, 
including the approaches. It is built on the 
cantilever principle. It has two main spans, 
beside several shorter ones. Each of the lqng spans 
covers 1710 feet, which is 115 feet longer t|han that 
of the Suspension Bridge which unites the^ cities of 
New York and Brooklyn. It hangs over an arm of 
the sea, two hundred feet deep. It contains 54,000 
tons of iron and steel, while there are 250,000 tons of 
solid masonry in the piers. It is held together by 
eight million rivets, which, if placed end to end, 



EDINB I r RGH . / ND SCO TL. IND. 275 

would reach from Edinburgh to the shores of France. 
The plates in its steel tubing, if laid lengthwise, would 
reach a distance of fifty miles. It was three years 
and a quarter in building ; five thousand men worked 
kpon it at one time ; it cost fifteen million dollars; 
Mty-seven men were killed, and five hundred and 
eighteen were more or less injured, during its con- 
stiuction. Its last rivet was driven by the Prince of 
Wales, March 4, 1890, amid the cheers of an immense 
crowd and the howling of a tempest of wind. On 
the whole it is probably the greatest and most wonder- 
ful bridge ever built. Unlike the suspension bridge 
across the Frith of Tay, thirty miles north, which 
went down, during a terrible storm, in .December, 
1879, carrying a train-load of ninety passengers into 
the sea, itis believed that the Frith of Forth Bridge 
will stand for centuries. 

There is only one greater bridge in the universe. 
That you may know what I mean, I must carry your 
thoughts back into the past, six thousand years. 
When the world was new and the golden age had not 
given place to the ages of mud and iron, earth and 
heaven riad daily intercourse with each other ; there 
was no void between them ; angels flew through the 
air, and trod the ground, in visible form ; and God 
himself walked in the garden, where man dwelt, and 
conversed with him face to face. But by and by sin 
came into man's heart, and instantly there was a 
great gulf between earth and heaven. The angels 
came no more ; or, if they came, they could not be 
seen ; and the human family were exiles from the 
Father's home, wandering about in a land of dark 
despair. On the dark, earth side of that gulf every 
human being has been born. 



276 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

As we advance from the cradle toward the grave, 
the gulf grows wider at every step. Beyond the 
grave and on through eternity, the gulf is absolutely 
impassable. In the sixteenth chapter of Luke, the 
veil between time and eternity is lifted. What dj 
we see? Wicked Dives in torment, and righteous 
Lazarus, with Abraham, in joy and felicity ; and ve 
hear Dives crying : " Father Abraham, have mejcy 
on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of 
his finger in water, and cool my tongue ; for I am 
tormented in this flame." Listen, and pear the 
answer which comes over the seething bosom of the 
Lake of Fire : " Between us and you there is a great 
gulf fixed : so that they which would pass from 
hence to you cannot ; neither can they pass to us, 
that would come from thence." My friends, unless 
we get across the gulf, in some way, before the end 
of our mortal life, we are lost forever. 

But is there any way to get over ? Yes, Almighty 
God, in his infinite love, has built a bridge. The 
all-wise Architect drew the plans before the founda- 
tions of the world were laid. Six thousand years 
ago the first stone was put in its place and the first 
span was swung out toward earth from the celestial 
shore. Since its completion, millions have] crossed, 
from darkness to light, from fear to hope, ! from sin 
to holiness, from death to life. Millions more may 
cross. The massive structure shows no sign of 
weakness or decay. 

The name of the bridge is Christ. He says : "No 
man cometh unto the Father but by me." The bridge 
is free ; no toll is demanded. All may cross by sim- 
ple faith in the bridge and in the word of God. 

Behold the bridge ! The only approach is on this 



EDINB I 7? GH , I ND SCO 7 LA ND. 277 

side of the grave. Behold the Saviour of mankind. 
You may cross the bridge to-night. You can trust 
the bridge. O, trust it now. The longer you defer 
your crossing, the wider the gulf will look, and 
tie greater the courage and resolution which you 
will require. O, that this whole congregation, or 
such portion of it as are on the wrong side, would 
arise this moment, forsake their sins and rush in a 
mass for the bridge ! O, turn your back on the 
world ! Turn your face toward Christ ! Venture 
on him now ! Plant your feet firmly on the bridge ; 
and run, vith all your speed, to the other shore ! 

We embarked on a little steam-boat and rode under 
and around the great bridge, viewing it from beneath 
and from every side. Returning to the city, we 
drove to Holy Rood Abbey, which is in a sadly 
ruined state. We were shown the spot where Queen 
Mary and Darnley were married, in 1565. Adjoining 
the Abbey is Holy Rood Palace, three hundred and 
ninety years old, one of the ancient residences of the 
Scottish kings. The building is large and grand ; 
but its apartments are somber and gloomy, and the 
furnishings are faded and time-eaten. We saw 
Queen Mary's apartments, four rooms, one containing 
her bed inclosed .in an iron railing. 

Mary, usually called Mary Queen of Scots, was 
one of the most prominent historical figures of her 
day. She was beautiful and gifted, but unprincipled, 
treacherous and cruel. Her first husband, before 
she was queen of Scotland, was Francis II., king of 
France. After his death and her coronation in Scot- 
land, she married Lord Darnley. She seemed to be 
more intimate with an Italian adventurer, named 
Rizzio, than with her husband. One night Darnley, 



278 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

in a fit of jealousy, led a band of assassins up aback 
stairway into Mary's apartments, and, tearing Rizzii) 
from her arms, dragged him into a corridor and 
stabbed him to death. We saw the stairs up which 
the murderers came and the blood of the murdered 
man on the floor. 

The horror of that night Mary never forgave aor 
forgot. The son whom she bore three months after- 
ward, James VI. of Scotland and James I. of Eng- 
land, could never see a drawn sword without 
trembling. Mary swore vengeance on the assassins 
of her favorite. A few months after, the house in 
which her husband lay sick was blown up with gun- 
powder and his mangled remains were found at a 
distance. Six months later the royal widow married 
Bothwell, who was known to have had a hand in the 
murder of her hated Darnley. This was too much 
for her subjects to endure. They rose in rebellion, 
and drove her from the throne and from Scotland. 
She fled to England, where Elizabeth had her 
arrested as a dangerous person. After an imprison- 
ment of several years, Elizabeth had her tried, con- 
demned and beheaded, on a charge of conspiracy 
against the throne of England. 

From Holy Rood Palace we drove up the hill, the 
distance of a mile, along the street which has three 
names — Canongate, High Street and Lawn Market — 
past John Knox's house and St. Giles' Church (where 
he preached so often) to the Castle. This is a grand 
old building, now held by seven hundred English 
soldiers — or Scotch, for most of those whom we saw 
wore the picturesque Highland costume. 

The castle was built in 617 ; but has been greatly 
changed since then. It was formerly one of the 



EDINBURGH AND SCOTLAND. 279 

residences of the kings of Scotland. James VI. 
(afterwards James I. of England) was born here. 
We saw the room of his birth, and were conducted 
through the apartments which his mother Mary lived 
when the castle was her home. The ancient regalia 
of Scotland is kept here. It includes a crown, scep- 
tre, and sword of state. St. Margaret's Chapel, the 
oldest and smallest church in Scotland, occupies the 
highest point of the castle- grounds. We saw the 
famous cannon called " Mons Meg," which weighs 
five tons and is four hundred years old. 

We stood on the top of the highest rampart and 
looked down, down, almost straight down upon the 
city, four hundred feet below us, and away to the 
open country on the west ; the Crouching Lion, and 
Arthur's Seat, on the south ; and the Frith of Forth, 
on the north. We listened to the music of two large 
military bands. One of them was composed mainly 
of bag-pipe players. 

Leaving the castle and the rest of the party, my minis- 
terial comrade and I walked back down the hill, up 
which we had rode, to St. Giles' Church. From its pulpit 
John Knox used to hurl thunder and lightning, more 
than three hundred years ago. He is buried under 
the pavement in front of the church. The only thing 
to mark the spot is a paving stone, about twice as 
large as the others, with the letters '* J. K.," deeply 
cut into its face. That is a very short epitaph for so 
great a man. But Knox was so great that he did not 
need a long inscription, or a lofty monument. 

Who was John Knox ? Does anyone ask that ques- 
tion ? He was the greatest man ever born on Scot- 
land's soil. The Scotch are among the noblest people 
in the world. Scotland is the native land of stalwart 



280 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA l/EL. 

manhood, freedom, independence and pure religion. 
And John Knox did more to make Scotland and the 
Scots what they are than any other man, or any ten 
men, who ever lived. When he came upon the stage, 
his countrymen were ignorant, superstitious, enslaved. 
When he passed away, they were intelligent, God- 
fearing, free. During the long conflict he was the 
leader of the army of reform, fighting with the word 
of God and prayer. Queen Mary was the leader of 
the army of ignorance, superstition and despotism, 
fighting with the sword, the rack and the fagot. You 
have heard the story of Knox, overheard -by some 
of his friends, praying in his garden : " God give 
me Scotland, or I die." That is the way he fought 
and conquered. You have heard the remark of 
Queen Mary: "I fear John Knox's prayers, more 
than I fear all the armies of England." That is the 
way he fought and conquered. 

When Knox's body was being laid in the grave, the 
regent Morton said: "There lies he who never 
feared the face of man." Generations after, Thomas 
Carlyle, in reviewing his life and work exclaimed : 
" Honor to all the brave and true ; everlasting honor 
to brave old Knox, one of the truest of the true ! " 
I stood in no more sacred spot, in all my travels in 
Europe, than when I bent above the burial place of 
John Knox, in front of the Church of St. Giles, in the 
city which he helped to set on a hill. 

Wednesday morning, August 27, we left Edin- 
burgh, at half past six o'clock, and rode by rail to 
Sterling, thirty-six miles. Soon after starting, we 
crossed the Frith of Forth by the great steel, canti- 
lever bridge, of which I spoke a few minutes ago. 

We climbed the hill to Sterling Castle. This is 



EDINB URGH AND SCO TLAND. 281 

not equal to Edinburgh Castle ; yet it is a fine old 
structure, in perfect condition — the home of three 
hundred red-coated British soldiers. It was once the 
residence of the monarchs of Scotland. Bloody old 
tyrants most of them were. We saw the room in 
which James II. stabbed and killed the Earl of 
Douglas, four hundred and. thirty nine years ago. 

The view from the ramparts of the castle is said to 
be very fine. But there was so dense a fog that we 
could see nothing, After our departure, the fog 
departed. Two places on the highest part of the 
castle — overlooking the field of Bannockburn, where 
the English under Edward II. were beaten by the 
Scots under Robert Bruce, five hundred and seventy- 
seven years ago, with a loss of thirty thousand men — 
are named from two queens who greatly admired the 
scenery from them. The queens were Victoria, who 
was there in 1842 ; and Mary, who last stood there in 
1532, which date is cut in the stone at the spot. 
James VI. was crowned in Sterling Castle, and John 
Knox preached the coronation sermon. We saw the 
pulpit used on that occasion, also Knox's Bible and 
communion table. In the castle yard stands a fine 
statue of King David Bruce. 

Near the castle we visited the Gray Friars' Church 
and Cemetery. There I saw something which impressed 
me very deeply. In a space of brightest green, sur- 
rounded by a pretty iron fence, stands an exquisite, 
little, octagonal temple of the whitest marble, with a 
dome-shaped roof. The floor is some six feet above 
the ground. From the floor to the cornice, the walls 
are plate-glass, divided by graceful Corinthian 
columns. Within, protected from the elements by the 
glass, and so perfectly white, are three marble figures, 



282 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

of the size of life. Two are beautiful maidens, sitting 
with an open Bible before them. Behind stands an 
angel. At their feet lies a lamb. The maidens are 
Margaret Wilson and Margaret McLachlin ; and the 
monument commemorates their martyrdom. 

How do you suppose they were martyred ? Because 
they would not give up the Bible and the pure religion 
which it teaches, they were bound to a post, driven 
into the beach of the sea at low tide, and were left to 
be drowned by the returning waves. 

Imagine the girls abandoned by all human friends, 
clinging to each other, and waiting for the cruel 
sea to come and devour them. I can see them 
now. I hear them triumphantly singing the praises 
of their Redeemer. The water reaches their feet ; it 
rises to their knees ; it surges up to their waists. I 
hear their singing more loud and clear. Now the 
water has reached their necks. Listen! Do 'you 
hear the song ? It sound to me like : 

" Jesus, Lover of my soul, 
Let me to thy bosom fly, 
While the nearer waters roll, 

While the tempest still is high ! 
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 
Till the storm of life is past." 
Hold ! Do you see that big billow rolling in ? It 
has almost reached the girls. The last strain floats 
in to the shore : 

" Safe into the haven guide, 
O receive my soul at last ! " 
The billow rolls over their heads ; and they are sing- 
ing with the saints and angels before the throne of 
God. 

What do you think of a religious experience like 
that? Do you not wish you had it? You can have 
it, if you will give your hearts wholly to the Lord 
Jesus Christ. 



THE SCOTCH LAKES AND GLASGOW. 283 



XVI. 

THE SCOTCH LAKES AND GLASGOW. 

"From sea to sea, and from mountain to mountain." — 
Micah vii., 12. 

Our journey from Edinburgh to Glasgow was liter- 
ally " from sea to sea and from mountain to moun- 
tain." Edinburgh is on, or near, the North Sea ; and 
Glasgow is on, or near, the Atlantic Ocean. Our 
route from the one city to the other lay, for the most 
part, through a wild, mountainous region. 

At the close of the last discourse we had got as far 
on our way as the city of Sterling. Thence we rode 
sixteen miles, by rail, in a north-westerly direction, 
up the river Teith, to the village of Callander. The 
town stands on the banks of the river, in front of 
precipitous crags, overhung on the west by Mont 
Benledi, and horizoned all around with a mountain 
sky-line. It is a favorite resort for summer visitors 
and tourists. It contains the villa of a titled lady, 
standing on ground once occupied by a Roman 
camp. 

At Callander we were transferred from coaches, 
drawn by the iron horses, to two breaks, drawn by 
horses of flesh. You will remember that I told you 
that a break is a four-wheeled wagon, with a body 
like a square piano, minus its legs, multiplied twice in 
length, breadth and height. Across the top runs four, 



334 THE GOSPEL OF- FOREIGN TEA VEE 

or six, seats. At the rear end is a door, which opens 
to swallow an immense quantity of baggage. Having 
seen our satchels, bags and bundles disappear in the 
monster's black throat, we mounted the lofty seats. 
Immediately the driver cracked his long lash ; the 
horses threw themselves against their collars ; and we 
dashed out of town, toward the west, at a furious 
rate. 

Our route lay up the streams and lakes of Venna- 
choir and Achray, commanding some of the finest 
scenery in Scotland. First we were riding along the 
banks of a winding, rushing river. Then we were 
skirting the flowery margin of a calm, silvery lake. 
Then we had the companionship of a river again ; 
then it was a lake ; then, for the third time, it was a 
river. In places the road was level ; then it was up : 
then it was down. 

In Great Britain all drivers have a peculiar habit. 
They walk their horses on every level, unless they 
are entering or leaving a city or village, and lash 
them into a furious gallop up and down every hill. 
Thus we rode from Callander, six miles and a half, 
to the foot of Loch Katrine. A more delightful 
ride could hardly be imagined. On both sides of the 
narrow valley rose mountain peaks and chains, of 
every conceivable shape. From the margins of the 
road to the tops of the mountains, the ground was 
one unbroken stretch of red. It looked as though 
millions of Scotchmen had been fighting here for the 
honor of their respective clans, and had left moun- 
tains and valleys soaked with blood. The color was 
that of blood, partially dried. I said to myself: 

That is the appearance this whole globe would pre- 
sent, if all the blood of men, which men have shed 



THE SCO TCH L. I KES A ND GLA SG O J V. 285 

in war, since the fall, were to come up to the surface 
of the ground into which it has soaked. This is a 
bloody old world. Man's chief occupation, for six 
thousand years, has been the shedding of blood. 
Take the bloodshed, the battles, the wars, the 
slaughters, the assassinations, the murders out of his- 
tory, and there would be very little left. The red 
pages, in the history of every country, are ten times 
as many as the white. 

Will war ever be a thing of the past? If a pure 
Christianity were to prevail everywhere throughout 
the world, war would, of necessity, come to an utter 
end. In the book from which our text is taken, and 
the fourth chapter, I read : " In the last days it shall 
come to pass, that the mountain of the house of the 
Lord shall be established in the top of the mountains, 
and it shall be exalted above the hills ; and the people 
shall flow into it. And many nations shall come, and 
say : Come, and let us go up to the mountain of the 
Lord, and to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will 
teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths : 
for the law shall go forth of Zion, and the word 
of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge 
among many people, and rebuke strong nations afar 
off; and they shall beat their swords into plough- 
shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks : nation 
shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall 
they learn war any more. But they shall sit every 
man under his vine and under his fig tree ; and none 
shall make them afraid : for the mouth of the Lord 
of hosts hath spoken it." 

When will that golden age of universal peace and 
love be introduced ? When our Lord Jesus Christ 
comes the second time, in the glory of his Father, with 



286 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEF 

all the holy angels. Let us join with the Church of all 
ages and lands in the inspired prayer : " Even so, 
come Lord Jesus." 

But what made those mountains so red ? That is 
the question which we put to our driver. His answer 
was : " The heather is in bloom." " O, the heather,' the 
heather!" we all exclaimed. "Stop driver, stop ! 
Let us get some ! " The carriage was stopped, and 
every passenger obtained a bunch of heather. It is 
a low shrub, bearing spikes of rosy flowers. It 
covers scores of thousands of acres of old Scotland's 
soil. It is not quite worthless. Bees extract honey 
from its blossoms ; and its tops are used for oven- 
fuel, brooms and thatch. 

The last mile .of this ride lay through a narrow, 
rugged defile or glen, called the Trossachs. In its 
original condition, it was so rough, and so seamed 
with cross ravines, that a man could hardly crawl 
through on his hands and knees. Now there is a 
good carriage road, constructed at a heavy expense. 
On either side of the dark and gloomy pass towers a 
lofty mountain. Benawn, on the right, rises to the 
height of 1800 feet above the level of the sea. 
Benvenue, on the left, is 2386 feet high. The cleft 
between is just wide enough to contain the road and 
the river. 

Having passed the Trossachs, we found ourselves 
at the foot of Loch Katrine. This is a most charm- 
ing lake, eight miles long and three-quarters of a 
mile wide, winding about among the mountains from 
northwest to southeast. Walking out into the lake, 
on a beautiful rustic pier, we embarked on a graceful 
little steam-boat, called the "Rob Roy." The voy- 
age was as delightful as poet or artist could imagine. 



THE SCOTCH LAKES AND GLASGOW. 287 

On both sides rose the mountains almost perpendicu- 
larly out of the water, their rough, dark, wooded 
sides contrasting strikingly with the calm blue water 
and calm blue sky. The sky and the lake looked so 
much alike, that it seemed as though they might 
change places without any damage or shock. Soon 
after starting, we passed a little emerald set in the 
azure of the lake, called Ellen's Isle, the central 
scene of Scott's poem " The Lady of the Lake." 
Four miles from there, on the south shore, we passed 
the head of an aqueduct, forty miles long, which 
conveys water to the city of Glasgow. It was opened, 
October, 1859, by Queen Victoria. 

Near the head of Loch Katrine, we disembarked 
at a place called Stronachlachar. Stronachlachar is 
the most northern point which we reached in all our 
travels. It is in latitude fifty-six degrees and fifteen 
minutes ; while Medina is forty-three degrees and 
twelve minutes. That makes a difference of thirteen 
degrees and three minutes. That would amount to 
about nine hundred miles. That is, Stronachlachar 
is nine hundred miles nearer the north pole than 
Medina is. Stronachlachar is in the latitude of 
northern Labrador, where perpetual winter reigns, 
while it enjoys summers not much shorter and cooler 
than ours. 

How do you account for this difference in tem- 
perature between points, in the same latitude, on the 
western. coast of Europe and on the eastern coast of 
America? The cause of this difference is the Gulf 
Stream. The Gulf Stream is a mighty river in the 
ocean, rising, under a tropical sun, in the Gulf of 
Mexico, and pouring a tremendous flood of warm 
water, a thousand miles wide, against the shores of 



288 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

the British Isles. It is an immense steam-heating 
apparatus, contrived, and kept in constant operation, 
by the power of Almighty God. If it should break 
down, or should be stopped one year for repairs, 
England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales— now so full 
of swarming cities, and smiling fields, and humming 
industry, and splendid art, and magnificent civiliza- 
tion — would become an almost unpeopled waste of 
well-nigh perpetual snow and ice. 

In a sense, it is the Gulf Stream that has made 
English art, and English commerce, and English 
science, and English oratory, and English poetry, and 
English Christianity, and English history. What 
were Joseph Turner, and George Stephenson, and 
Isaac Newton, and Edmund Burke, and William 
Shakespeare, and John Wesley, and William E. 
Gladstone but seeds from the tree of life, which the 
Gulf Stream cast upon an otherwise cold and barren 
shore ? 

Whence comes the Gulf Stream ? Out of the 
palm of the right hand of Infinite Wisdom and 
Power. God saw that humanity would need such a 
nation as the English, living apart from the rest of 
the world, in such a place as the British Isles. There- 
fore, he invented the Gulf Stream, to warm those 
islands so that they could support an immense popu- 
lation of civilized men. The summer air of Stronach- 
lachar, contrasted with the perpetual winter of the 
same latitude in America, suggested these thoughts, 
and taught me a very impressive lesson concerning 
the personality, and power, and wisdom of that 
infinite being whom we call God. 

Speaking of north and south suggests another 
train of thought. What is north ? What is south ? 



THE SO. ) TCfT L. I KES . IND GL. I SGO I J \ 289 

North is the direction toward the north pole. South 
is the direction towards the south pole. How far 
apart are north and south ? How far would you 
have to travel north before north would become 
south ? If you should start here and travel directly 
north forty-six degrees and forty-eight minutes, you 
would reach the north pole. If then you should 
keep right on straight ahead, as soon as you passed 
the pole, you would be going south. A journey 
southward of one hundred and eighty degrees would 
bring you to the south pole. Passing that, without 
turning either to the right hand or the left, you 
would find yourself traveling north. Therefore the 
distance between the north and the south is one hun- 
dred and eighty degrees, or half the circumference of 
the globe, which is twelve thousand miles. Do you see 
clearly that the north and the south are only twelve 
thousand miles apart ? I am sure you do. 

Now how far is it from the east to the west ? How 
far would you have to travel towards the east, before 
the east would become west? Reflect a moment. 
You start east and go around the world, never chang- 
ing your course. Will east ever become west, as, in 
the other case, north became south ? No, never. If 
you should circumnavigate the globe a million times, 
east would never become west. Therefore the dis- 
tance between the east and the w T est is infinite. 

Now turn to the twelfth verse of the one hundred 
and third Psalm, and read : " As far as the east 
is from the west, so far has he removed our trans- 
gressions from us." What idea do you get from 
that ? I get two tremendous thoughts. The first is 
the wonderful scientific knowledge possessed by the 
man who wrote this psalm, or by the Infinite Spirit 



290 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

who inspired the writing. Why did not the Psalmist 
say : " As far as the north is from the south, so far 
hath he removed our transgressions from us " ? The 
best scientist in the world, in David's time, would 
have said : " The north and south are as far apart as 
the east and west." But inspiration did not let 
David fall into that blunder. If he had written : 
" As far as the north is from the south, so far hath he 
removed our transgressions from us," every modern 
infidel would laugh a derisive laugh and say : " That 
does not amount to much. The north is only twelve 
thousand miles from the south. If that is all your 
God can do, he is not much of a Saviour." But now, 
when the Bible says : " As far as the east is from the 
west," the mouth of infidelity is stopped, and the 
devout student of science exclaims : "Such knowl- 
edge is too wonderful for me ; it is high, I cannot 
attain unto it !" 

The fact that David, living before the world had 
any real science, said "east " and " west," instead of 
north and south, is, to me, positive proof that he 
wrote under the direction of the mind of God. The 
Bible does not profess to be a scientific work. And 
yet, whenever it makes any statement bearing upon 
science, its language is as accurate as that of the 
best modern philosopher. You cannot find one 
scientific blunder in this whole book. If it had been 
written by uninspired men, it would contain hundreds 
of blunders, like the sacred books of India, which 
falsely claim to be inspired. 

The other thought, suggested to me by the words 
north, south, east and west, is the infinite mercy and 
power of God, in pardoning the sins of those who 
sincerely repent and unfeignedly believe in him. To 



THE SCOTCH LAKES AND GLASGOW. 291 

you who are not a Christian, duty compels me to say 
that all the sins you have ever committed are piled 
upon you, and the smallest of them is heavy enough 
to sink you into eternal perdition. Unless you get 
rid of your transgressions before you die, you will be 
forever excluded from the city of God. There is 
just one way to get rid of your sins. You must go 
to God for yourself, renouncing all unrighteousness, 
promising to serve your Creator all the rest of your 
life, surrendering your will utterly to his, and trusting 
alone in the merits of his crucified Son. Then what 
will take place ? In a second of time God will remove 
all your transgressions as far from you as the east is 
from the west ; he will remove them to an infinite 
distance, and will regard and treat you as though you 
had never sinned. 

From Stronachlachar we rode in carriages, five 
miles and a half, between ranges of mountains, painted 
red, from abase to summit, with blooming heather, to 
Inversnaid. At Inversnaid we embarked on the glassy 
boscm of Loch Lomond, in a perfectly beautiful 
steamer named "The Empress." Loch Lomond is 
one of the most beautiful lakes in the world. It 
stretches north and south twenty-one miles. For 
thirteen miles south from its head, it is less than a 
mile in width. Through the rest of its length, it 
swells out to a breadth of about six miles, and is full 
of islands. The point where we took the boat is four 
miles from the head. 

Standing at the stern, as our gallant craft steamed 
away, we could look back to where a huge cavern in 
the mountain side, called Rob Roy's cave, presents 
its slightly-opened lips just above the water, as 
though it were a gigantic monster come down to 



293 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

drink. Rob Roy, or Robert the Red-head, was a 
famous Highland outlaw, who filled all this region 
with the terror of his name, three hundred years ago. 
In muscular strength, in skill with the sword, in 
mental prowess and in dare-devil courage, he was 
unequaled in all Scotland. For many years he 
defied all the power of England, and was the virtual 
ruler of this portion of the British Empire. In this 
cave he stored up his plunder, and held councils with 
his armed clansmen. If you would know all that is 
known about him, and more than is known, read 
Scott's " Rob Roy," a book which will do you more 
good, and less harm, than most of the Sunday-school 
novels. 

Loch Lomond is certainly the most beautiful body 
of water I ever saw. It is a silver mirror, of perfect 
polish, set in a frame of emerald and amethyst 
consisting of twenty-one mountains, rising right up 
from the water, and many others visible through 
vistas beginning with bright green, and shading off 
into a deeper green, and blue, and purple. These 
mountains have an average altitude of about two 
thousand feet. They are called the Alps of Scot- 
land. They are not so lofty and grand as the Swiss 
Alps, but are more beautiful. The sail was a con- 
stant delight. I enjoyed it most intensely, and longed 
for the power to enjoy it more. 

After a voyage of seventeen miles, between the 
mountains and among the islands, frequently darting 
from shore to shore to make the various landings, 
and after a bountiful supper on the boat, we landed 
at Balloch,. at the foot of the lake. There we took 
the cars, and, after a ride of twenty miles, reached 
Glasgow, at eight o'clock. From Edinburgh we had 



THE SCO TCH LAKES A ND GLA SGO IV. 293 

traveled one hundred and nine miles, although the 
distance directly across the country is only fifty 
miles. We went to the Bath Hotel, on Bath street. 
The next morning we sallied out to see the city. 

Glasgow is a splendid city of about eight hundred 
thousand inhabitants, the second in population in 
Great Britain and the greatest ship-building place in 
the world. It lies on both sides of the river Clyde, 
twenty one miles from its mouth. The Clyde is the 
most important river in Scotland. For miles, from 
the city down toward its mouth, its banks are one 
continuous ship-yard. All the way down you can see 
the huge skeletons of the monsters of the deep, and 
the same monsters in all stages of completion, from 
the laying of the keel to the finishing of the gorgeous 
inside work. The river swarms with men, all doing 
something about iron ships. All day long you hear 
the din of scores of thousands of hammers, putting 
heads on millions of rivets to hold together acres of 
iron plates, on the sides of hundreds of ships, destined 
to sail to every harbor on the globe. At night you 
see huge columns of flame shooting up toward the 
sky out of the chimneys of hundreds of blast-fur- 
naces, in which a million tons of iron and steel are 
produced every year. 

Ship-building, and the production of iron and 
steel, are not the only industries of Glasgow. She 
carries on an immense variety of manufactures, each 
of the most enormous proportions. Her chemical 
works, calico-printing establishments, breweries, glass- 
works and dye-houses are the wonder of the world. 
As a manufacturer of cotton goods, she stands among 
the first, having 27,000 power looms, with over two 
million spindles, consuming annually 125,000 bales of 



294 THE GO ST EL OE FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

raw material. Her annual exports, of all kinds, 
amount to fifty million dollars, and her imports to 
thirty-five million. 

The River Clyde divides Glasgow into two unequal 
parts, connected by ten splendid bridges. Glasgow 
is, for the most part, a well built city. The quays 
along the river are open, lined with handsome build- 
ings, and present many fine views. In general, the 
streets are broad, straight, well-paved and well- 
lighted. The city has three fine parks, beautifully 
laid out, aggregating two hundred and eighty acres. 
Glasgow is a very religious city. It contains one 
hundred and seventy-five churches, of which one 
hundred and twenty-four are Presbyterian ; twelve, 
Roman Catholic ; five, Episcopal ; seven, Baptist ; 
other denominations, twenty-seven. Almost every- 
body goes to church, in Scotland's commercial 
metropolis. Most of the churches are large and 
flourishing, and the members are diligent in working 
for God and souls. 

That religion thrives in Glasgow does not surprise 
us, when we reflect that the city was founded by a 
Christian missionary. His name was Mungo — St. 
Mungo, they call him now. He lived and labored 
nearly twelve hundred years ago. In his days most 
of the people of Scotland were pagans and semi- 
savages. Where mighty Glasgow stands was nothing 
but a cluster of fishermen's huts. Mungo came 
among them, preaching the gospel, as Jesus did 
among the fishermen of Lake Gennesaret. Their 
hearts were touched. Many of them abandoned their 
barbarous habits and sinful lives, and became the 
meek and humble followers of the Prince of Peace. 
Soon their huts began to give place to more substan- 



THE SCO TCH LA KES A ND GLA SGOJ V. 295 

tial and elegant dwellings, grouped around a church 
which they helped their minister to build on the very 
spot where now stands the most splendid Cathedral 
of Scotland. Other houses were built. Trade sprung 
up, where fishing had been the only occupation. The 
population multiplied. Commerce established her 
throne on the banks of the Clyde. Manufactures 
sprung into existence. Generations and centuries 
came and went. And now we see the second city in 
size and importance, within the British Isles. All 
this pow r er, wealth and magnificence had their begin- 
ning and source in the church which St. Mungo built 
and in the gospel which he preached. There is much 
in Glasgow that is evil. But all its goodness and 
greatness have come from the religion of Jesus 
Christ. 

If the gospel had not been preached on the banks 
of the Clyde, Glasgow would not be. If the gospel 
had not been preached throughout the British Isles, 
England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland would now be 
covered with forests and swamps and peopled with 
pagans and savages. To me the history of Glasgow 
is a comment on the Scripture text: "Godliness is 
profitable unto all things, having promise of the life 
that now is, and of that which is to come." Godliness 
— which means true religion, the religion of Jesus 
Christ — is profitable for communities and nations. 

You must have noticed the difference in wealth 
and power and prosperity between the Christian, 
and the heathen nations ; between those nations 
which have the purest form of Christianity, and 
those which have a type that is more corrupt. 
Great Britain is, in all respects, the most powerful 
nation of the old world. Cross the sea into the Ger- 



296 THE GOSPEL OE FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

man Empire. England and Germany are very nearly 
equal in stature, and breadth of shoulders, and length 
and strength of arms. They are both Christian 
nations ; their religion is Bible Christianity. 

Cross the border into France. France is a great 
nation. But, with better soil and climate and larger 
territory, it is far less powerful than England or 
Germany. It also has a form of Christianity which 
is much less pure and much less like that which 
Christ gave'to the world. That is why Wellington 
beat Napoleon at Waterloo, and the Prussians beat 
the French at Sedan. In both instances Christians, 
fighting with the Bible in their pockets, were too 
much for Christians fighting without the Bible. 

From France travel south, and you find three 
so-called Christian nations— Spain, Portugal and 
Italy. You may call them powerful and prosperous ; 
but they are much less so than France, and their 
Christianity is much more corrupt than hers. 

Cross the Mediterranean sea from Italy, and you 
find youself in the Barbary States. The people are 
Mohammedans, and, as a consequence, are from one- 
third to one-half savage. Go on eastward, through 
many thousand miles of savagery, and you come at- 
length to India, where two hundred and fifty millions 
of people live. Till English arms and civilization 
and religion came, nearly all were idolaters of the 
most disgusting kind. What makes the difference 
between the wealth, and power, and enterprise, and 
prosperity of England and the poverty, and weak- 
ness, and stagnation, and misery of India ? The two 
peoples are of the same race ; and India has the 
advantage, a hundred times, in age, and extent of 
territory, and fertility of soil, and every other natural 



THE SCOTCH LAKES AND GLASGOW. 297 

gift. The difference between the greatness of that 
little rocky isle, and the littleness of that immense 
continent of natural fertility and wealth, is the differ- 
ence between a pure Christianity and a most corrupt 
paganism. 

From what has been said, I think you can see that 
the nearer nations, or individuals, get to the pure 
religion of the Bible, the more prosperous and happy 
they will be. If you cannot see that, I pity your 
stupidity. If you do see it, and are governed by 
reason and not by passion, you will strive to be that 
kind of Christian which the Bible describes. 

I was much interested in looking at the coat-of- 
arms, or seal, of the city of Glasgow, and in what a 
guide told me about it. It bears, on a shield, a tree, 
a bird, a fish and a bell ; and an ancient rhyme says 
concerning it : 

" The tree that never grew, 
The bird that never flew, 
The fish that never swam, 
The bell that never rang." 

We visited the University. It was founded in 1451. 
It is delightfully located on a hill, in the north- 
western part of the city, overlooking West End Park. 
Its chief building was erected in 1870, and is said to 
be the largest single college building in the world. 
It is far ahead of anything at Syracuse, or Wesleyan, 
or Michigan, or Cornell, or Yale, or Harvard. 

We visited the Cathedral. It is one of the most 
attractive features of the city. It was founded seven 
hundred and sixty-eight years ago, and consumed 
thirteen years in building. Its architecture is the 
Early English Gothic. Its dimensions are length, 
three hundred and nineteen feet ; width, sixty-three ; 



298 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

and height of spire, two hundred and twenty-five. It 
is commandingly situated on the highest ground in 
Scotland's metropolis. A view from its tower takes 
in the valley of the Clyde, with woods and hedges 
and pleasant fields, and the river itself, rolling away 
toward the ocean. The upper, or main portion of 
the Cathedral is very grand and imposing, but is not 
so extraordinary as its crypt, or underground part. 
Supported by its sixty-five beautiful pillars— sur- 
mounted by delicately carved capitals and graceful 
arches — with the light streaming in through the lancet 
windows, this crypt is the finest in the world. But 
the greatest glory of the building is its marvelous 
stained-glass windows, among the finest in the world. 
They are over eighty in number, each one giving a 
Bible story in pictures. A good student of Scripture 
could read almost the whole Bible here. One of 
these windows cost the enormous sum of ten thousand 
dollars. 

This is the only cathedral in Scotland which was 
spared by Knox and his fellows, in the time of the 
reformation. It is also the only cathedral which I 
saw, in my European trip, which is neither Catholic 
nor Episcopalian. Glasgow Cathedral was built by 
the Catholics. It now belongs to the Presbyterians. 

We traversed many streets and entered many 
stores, or shops, as they are always called in Great 
Britain. The shop windows in Glasgow are more 
beautiful than those in London. Glasgow is more 
like an American city than any other in Europe 
unless, possibly, we except Liverpool. 

We visited the ship-yard of the Fairfield Ship 
Building Company, one of the largest, if not the 
largest, in the world. There between 4,000 and 5,000 



THE SCOTCH LAKES AND GLASGOW. 299 

m.en are employed, in building the largest iron 
steam-ships. We saw all sorts of ponderous machines 
for rolling, and forging, and bending, and punching, 
and cutting plates, and bars, and beams of iron and 
steel. Our ears were filled with the deafening din. 
of hundreds of men hammering rivets into place and 
shape. We saw men making an iron mast. It was 
hollow. One man had to crawl inside, and hold the 
red-hot rivets, while two men, on the outside, headed 
them down with tremendous blows of heavy ham- 
mers. . That inside man, who soon loses his hearing, 
gets — as I was told — only about sixty cents a day. 
Out of that he must shelter, and feed and clothe 
himself and family, and educate his children, in a 
city where there are no free schools, and where food 
costs more than in -Medina. 

We went on board a smallish steamer, nearly done, 
which cost three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
They recently built a steam yacht for the Emperor 
of Russia, at a cost of five million dollars. While 
thousands of his innocent subjects — men, women and 
children— are traversing the weary road from their 
native land to far off Siberia, through drifts of snow 
and blinding blizzards, that infernal despot is sailing 
around the seas, in a pleasure boat which flashes with 
silver and gold wrung from them by threats and tort- 
ure. How that man will tremble with terror, when 
he meets his victims before the great white throne of 
the Eternal Judge ! 

We saw four huge ships in process of building, 
each over four hundred feet long, and destined to cost 
nearly a million dollars. I climbed to the upper deck 
of one of them, as high as the eaves of a six-story 
house. That ship-yard reminded me of another ship- 



300 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

yard in which every one of us is working to-day, and 
every day. 

This life is a ship-yard, in which you and I are 
building a vessel in which we shall shortly sail out 
upon the ocean of death. If we build a vessel accord- 
ing to the plan of the Supreme Ship Builder, with 
his help and out of the material which he supplies, 
we shall safely and joyously reach the shore of 
eternal life. But if not, the storms of an eternal 
winter will rend our vessel into fragments and sink 
our soul into the depths of bottomless despair. The 
ship which you are building is your character. 

Are you building a true Christian character, with 
Christ as your model, and the Bible as your book of 
specifications, and the Holy Spirit as your instructor? 
Are you building out of the pure, solid steel of 
gospel repentance, and faith, and regeneration, and 
sanctincation ? If so, well. If not so, I see nothing 
before you but disaster, and wreck, and " the black- 
ness of darkness for ever and ever." 



A YR AND THE ENGLISH LAKES. 801 



XVII. 

AYR AND THE ENGLISH LAKES. 

" The land, whither ye go to possess it, is a land of hills and 
valleys, and drinketh water of the rain of heaven" — Deuter- 
onomy xi. ii. 

These words were spoken by the Lord, through 
Moses, to the children of Israel. The land spoken 
of was Canaan, or Palestine, the inheritance promised 
to the seed of Abraham. The same words may be 
used in describing the Lake Region of England. It 
"is a land of hills and valleys." Its hills are so high 
that they deserve the name of mountains. Its valleys 
are as beautiful as a poet's fancy or an artist's dream. 
It " drinketh water of the rain of heaven " in such 
abundance, that, collected in its valleys, under the 
shadow of its mountains, it holds eighteen lakes of 
rare and fascinating loveliness. 

Turning our faces toward that land, we left Glas- 
gow Friday morning, August 29. But before I take 
you to the English Lakes, I must show you another 
of old Scotland's sacred places. A run of forty-three 
miles southward, on the rails, brought us to the town 
of Ayr. Ayr is what Britishers call a royal burgh. 
It has a population of about ten thousand. It is the 
capital of a county of the same name. It is a sea- 
port, at the mouth of a little river, also called Ayr. 

Leaving. the railway station, as soon as our train 
arrived, we all started, on foot, for the birth-place of 



302 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

the poet Burns. A walk of two miles, along a per- 
fect road, between fields in the highest state of culti- 
vation, often between walls of solid masonry draped 
with luxuriant vines, brought us to our destination. 
The house, in which Scotland's most popular poet 
first saw the light, is a very plain and humble cottage 
with thatched roof so low that the crown of my Derby 
hat almost touched it, as I stood under the eaves. 
Within, the walls are as rude and bare as possible. 
The floor consists of small, flat stones, of irregular 
shapes, laid," without mortar, on the ground. We 
paid an admission fee of twelve cents. 

They showed us the room in which Burns was ' 
born, and his bed. Another room is well stored with 
relics of the famous bard. A lady, having charge of 
the museum, told us that, up to that date, she had 
received twenty-one thousand visitors, since the 
beginning of the year. For some reason, more per- 
sons visit the birth place of Burns, than that of Shake- 
speare, although the latter is nearer the great centers 
of population, and the main lines of travel, than the 
former. Why is this ? Certainly Shakespeare was, 
by far the greater genius of the two. I think that 
the true explanation is that Burns was more the poet 
of the people, while Shakespeare was the poet of 
scholars and philosophers. Burns touched more 
hearts than Shakespeare, and touched them more 
deeply. Shakespeare may have more admirers ; but 
there are more who love the name and memory of 
Burns. 

When we had looked through the place, it was after 
eleven o'clock ; and as we had had an early break- 
fast, we took lunch in the museum, surrounded with 
memorials of the poet. A walk of half a mile brought 



A YR AND THE ENGLISH LAKES. 303 

us to a ruined church called Alloway Kirk, standing 
near the river Doon. A small cemetery surrounds the 
kirk. An old man offered to be our guide. As he 
conducted us about, in and around the church and 
through the graveyard, he recited many of Burns' 
poems, or parts of many, in the real Scotch brogue. 
We showed our delight in genuine American style ; 
and when we left him, we nearly filled his wrinkled 
old hands with pieces of copper. His united palms 
looked like the inside of a church contribution box, 
after the taking of a collection. Among the interest- 
ing things which he showed us were the grave of 
Burns' father, and the font where the infant poet was 
baptized. The font is a stone trough projecting 
through the wall of the church, so as to be filled from 
the outside and used from the inside. 

Near the church, in a beautiful garden, is the Burns 
monument, a circular Greek temple, sixty feet high, 
built in the year 1820, at a cost of sixteen thousand 
dollars. We went in and saw a fine portrait of the 
poet, the very Bible which he presented to " High- 
land Mary," and many interesting relics. We also 
climbed to the top of the monument. Burns is not 
buried here ; but under a more splendid mausoleum, 
fifty miles away, in the churchyard at Dumfries. 
Near the monument, in a grotto of the garden, we 
saw two very life-like statues — "Tarn O'Shanter " 
and " Souter Johnnie." 

A few rods away, two bridges span the Doon, 
called by Burns, in his poems, the " Twa Brigs." One 
of them is a modern structure. The other is an old- 
fashioned stone arch, much higher in the middle than 
at the ends. This is the " Auld. Brig," which figures 
so prominently in the story of Tarn O'Shanter. We 



304 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

crossed both bridges. On the highest part of the 
Auld Brig we stood a long time. We leaned over the 
parapet, and looked down into the silvery tide of the 
Bonnie Doon, flowing between its emerald banks. 
We thought of the great poet, standing on these same 
stones and enjoying this same prospect, more than a 
century ago. We listened while one of our number 
read the little poem called "The Banks of Doon," 
which the poet puts into the mouth of a disappointed 
maiden ; and then we all joined in singing the two 
stanzas, which begin : 

" Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon 
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ; 

How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
And I sae weary, fu' o' care ? " 

Sit down here on this stone, and let me tell you 
something about Robert Burns. He was born Janu- 
ary 25, 1759. His father was a poor man, whose life 
had been one long struggle with misfortune. He 
was, however, a man of good sense, and had picked 
up something of an education. He greatly desired 
that his children should be educated. When he was 
able he sent them to school ; and when he could not, 
he taught them himself, at home, after his day's work 
was ended. In after years, Robert wrote : " I am 
indebted to my father for most of my little preten- 
sions to wisdom." But, so grinding was the poverty 
of the family, the future poet was trained to no 
higher avocation than the handling of the plough. 
At the age of fifteen, he did the work of a man. 
Hard work almost killed him. His naturally robust 
frame was overtaxed and his nervous constitution 
received a fatal strain. His shoulders were bowed, 
he became subject to violent headaches, palpitations 
of the heart and fits of depressing melancholy. 



AYR AND THE ENGLISH LAKES. 305 

But overworking and underfeeding of the body 
could not crush, or starve, his intellect. He read 
every book he could borrow. He read in bed at 
night. He followed the plough with a book in 
his hand. He spent his Sundays, whenever the 
weather was not too severe, in the woods, reading 
books and studying nature. He began to manifest 
his poetic genius early in life. He was a born poet ; 
and there is an old proverb that real poets are always 
born, and never made. At the age of sixteen, or a 
little before, as he informs us, he " first committed 
the sin of rhyme." He kept on writing poems for 
eleven years, keeping his productions in his own pos-' 
session. They were mostly on rural themes, and 
were composed while he was treading the furrow 
behind the plow, and perfected, and committed to 
writing, in his cold room by night. At the age of 
twenty-seven, he was guilty of a serious breach of 
morality, which led to such unpleasant consequences 
that he resolved to quit his native country and seek 
his fortune in America. But, before going, he deter- 
mined to publish his poems. The result was a tre- 
mendous burst of applause, which resounded all 
through the British Isles. Old and young, grave and 
gay, learned and ignorant, were alike transported 
with wonder and delight. In a few hours the poor 
despised ploughman of Ayrshire became the most 
famous of living writers. 

At once he was summoned to Edinburgh, and was 
feasted, praised and almost worshiped by the noblest 
people in that great literary center. It was at this 
time that Scott, then a very young man, had an 
opportunity of beholding and listening to the gifted 
stranger. He has left a very interesting account of 



306 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Burns' appearance. He was most struck with the 
poet's eye. He says : " I never saw such another 
eye in a human head, though I have seen the most 
distinguished men of my time. It was large and 
dark, and literally glowed when he spoke." 

Burns lived but ten years after fame so suddenly 
burst upon him. He wrote some. He traveled a 
little. He received a little money for his poems. 
He held the position of excise-officer, with a small 
salary, in two" different places. He became sour and 
melancholy, on account of his unpopularity growing 
out of his political opinions. At the age of thirty- 
seven, when his life-work ought to have been but 
just begun, after a brief illness, he died. If you ask 
what caused his early death, truth compels me to 
answer : Dissipation, intemperance. It is a terribly 
sad fact that, with all his genius — and he was one of 
the most brilliant geniuses the human race has ever 
produced — Robert Burns was a drunkard. His 
intemperate habits began early in life, and grew with 
his years. They led him into many disgraceful per- 
formances, which I will not even name. When fame 
brought him into greater temptations, he rapidly 
went on from bad to worse. As really as James A. 
Garfield was shot to death by Charles J. Guiteau, 
Robert Burns was shot to death by King Alcohol. I 
do not tell these things because I take delight in 
holding up uncleanness before your eyes, or in brand- 
ing with infamy a dead man's name ; but because I 
wish to increase your horror and hatred for intem- 
perance. The more you admire the genius and 
accomplishments of the victim, the more you will 
oathe the vice which slew him. 
It is often said, by advocates and defenders of 



AYR AND THE ENGLISH LAKES. 307 

moderate drinking, that it is only men of weak intel- 
lects, men of no manhood, who become drunkards. 
They say : " Look at me ! I am a man. I have a 
mind. I can drink liquor, or let it alone. I shall 
never be a drunkard. A man who is so weak that 
he cannot save. himself from drunkenness without 
being a total-abstainer is not worth saving." Was 
Robert Burns a mental imbecile ? Was he a man of 
weak intellect ? Was he not worth saving from a 
drunkard's grave and a drunkard's doom ? If you 
were anything like a well-read man, you would know 
that an immense army of the world's greatest gen- 
erals, and statesmen, and orators, and poets, and 
artists, and jurists, and physicians, and even divines, 
have gone down under the withering curse of strong 
drink. They thought they were strong enough to 
drink the cup of exhilaration, without ever touching 
the cup of inebriation. But their very strength was 
their weakness. That peculiar nervous organization 
which is always associated with genius, is especially 
susceptible to the fascinating and ruinous influences 
of the alcoholic bowl. The men who can drink a 
life-time, without ever getting intoxicated, are 
generally of a low intellectual rank ; they rarely 
make great poets, or able politicians, or successful 
merchants. 

Where did poor Robby Burns' intemperance begin ? 
Where intemperance always begins — with the first 
glass. So far as the use of alcoholic beverages is 
concerned, there is no temperance but total abstin- 
ence. Temperance is the moderate use of that which 
is good, and total abstinence from that which is bad. 
That is the teaching of experience, and also of the 
word of God. Does not this Book say ; " Look not 



308 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 

upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth its color 
in the cup, when it moveth itself aright : at the last 
it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder " ? 
That is God Almighty's total-abstinence-pledge — the 
strongest one ever written. He presents it to every 
man, woman and child, and commands us to sign and 
keep it. The word of God calls intemperance a snake ; 
and so it is, as millions have learned by bitter exper- 
ience. 

A few years ago a noted wild-beast trainer gave an 
exhibition with his pets in a London theatre. He 
put his lions, tigers, leopards and panthers through 
their part -of the performance with perfect success, 
awing the audience with his wonderful nerve and his 
control over them. As a closing piece, he was to 
introduce an enormous boa-constrictor, thirty-five feet 
long. He had bought it when it was only two or 
three days old, and, for twenty-five years he had 
handled it daily, so that it was considered perfectly 
harmless and completely under his control. The cur- 
tain rose on an Indian woodland scene. The weird 
strains of an Oriental band steals through the trees. 
A rustling noise is heard. A huge serpent 
is seen winding its way through the under- 
brush. It stops. Its head is erect. Its bright 
eyes sparkle. Its whole body is full of life. A man 
emerges from the dense foliage. His eyes meet the 
monster's eyes. The serpent quails. The man is 
victor. The serpent is under the control of a master. 
Under his guidance and direction, it performs a series 
of frightful feats. At a signal from the man it slowly 
approaches him, and begins to coil its heavy folds 
around him. Higher and higher they rise till the man 
and serpent seem blended in one. Aloft above the 



AYR AND THE ENGLISH LAKES. 309 

man is reared its hideous head. The man gives a 
little scream, and the audience unite in a thunderous 
explosion of applause ; but it freezes on their lips. 
The trainer's scream was a wail of death agony. 
Those cold, slippery folds had embraced him for the 
last time. They had crushed out his life, and the hor- 
ror-stricken audience heard bone after bone crack as 
those powerful folds tightened about him. The 
man's plaything became his master. 

In this horrible incident is presented the whole 
story of intemperance. The man who has swallowed 
the first glass of alcoholic liquor has the boa- con- 
strictor of intemperance in his bosom. If he will 
strangle the monster now, he can with ease. If he 
permits it to live, and feeds and fondles it, he may 
control it for many years. But it is continually grow- 
ing. And some day its deadly folds will embrace his 
soul and crush it into eternal death. Young man, 
have you begun to sport with the pithon of intem- 
perance ? Be warned. Now you can escape. Soon 
it will be too late. Soon you will be a drunkard ; 
and it is God's unchangeable decree that " no drunk- 
ard shall inherit the kingdom of heaven." 

Do you say that you did not come here to listen to 
a temperance lecture ? You were invited to hear a 
sermon on the " Gospel of Foreign Travel." Tem- 
perence is a part of the gospel, and these thoughts 
force themselves into my mind while standing upon 
the " Auld Brig," in sight of the monument of that 
brilliant poet whom Scotch whiskey slew. 

Having somewhat sated our eyes, we walked back 
to Ayr. There we turned our faces toward the " land 
of hills and valleys," which " drinketh water of the 
rain of heaven," where we had determined to spend 



310 HIE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

our last Sabbath in Europe. About the middle of 
the afternoon we took the cars for Keswick, Eng- 
land, one hundred and thirty-six miles distant. On 
the way we passed through Carlisle, an English city 
of thirty-six thousand inhabitants, the capital of 
Cumberland County. Carlisle, the capital of Cum- 
berland County, Pennsylvania, is one of its numerous 
namesakes. It has an old castle, in which Mary of 
Scotland was imprisoned by Queen Elizabeth, not 
long before she lost her head. 

At Keswick we spent the night in a beautiful hotel, 
delightfully located. We were at the northern 
entrance of the famous English Lake Region. This 
district extends over a portion of three counties : 
Cumberland, Westmoreland and Lancaster. It con- 
tains a cluster of eighteen lovely lakes, which lie 
embosomed among mountains of singular beauty. 
The lakes oftenest visited are Windermere, the larg- 
est, Grasmere, Rydalwater, Ullswater, Derwentwater 
and Buttermere. The green mountains and the blue 
lakes are wedded to each other with rings of emerald 
islands and snowy vales of foaming cascades. As 
good a judge as Thomas Arnold says that " it is vain 
to talk of any earthly beauty ever equaling this coun- 
try." In whatever direction the tourist may wander 
in the lake district, he is sure to find himself sur- 
rounded by grand and picturesque scenery. 

For generations prominent men in England have 
spent portions of their time here ; and their elegant 
villas, bearing poetic names, are scattered among the 
valleys and along the lake shores, and crown the 
most conspicuous elevations. The region owes a part 
of its world-wide fame to the pens of gifted writers, 
who have here established their homes and found 



AYR AND TFIE ENGLISH LAKES. 311 

their graves, or have come as visitors from near or 
from far. Among these may be mentioned Words- 
worth, Southey, Sir Christopher North, De Quincey, 
Dr. Arnold, Harriet Martineau and Mrs. Hemans. 

Keswick is a village of three thousand inhabi- 
tants, situated on the Greta river, close to Derwentwa- 
ter. It is noted for its manufacture of lead pencils. 
I wonder why we call them lead pencils. There is 
not a lead pencil in all the world, and never was. 
They are plumbago, or graphite, pencils. The plum- 
bago used at Keswick is obtained from a mine on 
the western shore of Derwentwater. Some of our 
party visited the factory, and purchased pencils 
stamped with their own names, or the names of 
friends at home, whom they wished to remember with 
gifts. 

Saturday morning we took carriages, just like the 
breaks of Scotland, and drove entirely around Der- 
wentwater. I asked the driver of the carriage, in 
which it was my lot to ride, what he called such a 
wagon. He told me. I asked him to spell the word. 
He spelled it : s-h-e-r-r-y v-a-n-s. I afterwards 
learned that the true orthography is char-a-banc. 

On the way around the lake we visited two water- 
falls. Barrowfall and Lodore. At the latter I gazed 
with the greatest wonder and delight. Why ? Because, 
when I was six or seven years old, I read Robert 
Southey's poem : " Plow does the Water come down 
at Lodore?" in my reading book at school. I was 
perfectly charmed with the poem. In my childish 
fancy I could almost see and hear the plunge and 
roar of the descending flood. I thought : Lodore 
must be the greatest natural wonder in the world. I 
longed to see it ; I dared not hope I ever should. 



m 2 1HE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

And so when our carriage stopped, that Saturday 
morning, under the shadow of the mountain, and the 
driver told us that we were going to see the Falls of 
Lodore, O, how my heart bounded within me ! I was 
a little boy again. The intervening years had 
vanished. m I saw myself standing in a long line of 
boys and girls, in the reading class, in the old school 
house, with our toes on a crack in the floor. We were 
reading : " How does the Water come down at 
Lodore ? " I felt the old longing. I sprang from the 
carriage in a second, and ran, like a boy released 
from school, across the field, over the big boulders 
and up the rocky glen, till my muscles were exhausted 
and my breath was gone. My feelings when, for the 
first time, I was approaching Niagara were less 
intense than when I was expecting, every moment, to 
find myself face to face with Lodore. And yet Lodore 
is but a drop compared with Niagara. 

O how deep, and vivid, and lasting and tremendous 
are the impressions, which are made upon the mind 
in childhood ! How infinitely important it is that 
those impressions be pure and elevating and divine ! 
Is it your desire that your child shall become a 
temperate, virtuous, Christian man ? Then begin 
to stamp the principles and doctrines of the Christian 
religion, on his mind and heart, in the earliest dawn 
of his intellectual and moral life. If you let the 
Devil have him the first seven years, the chances are 
that he will have him till death, and through eternity. 
If I am a Christian, it is chiefly because the dimmest 
thing in my memory, far back almost to my cradle, is 
the voice of my father praying to God. I do not 
remember the words ; but the tones of his voice and 
the impression that he was talking to the Father 
above, I cannot forget. 



AYR AND THE ENGLISH LAKES. 313 

Returning, after a ride of about ten miles, we visited 
the parish Church of Keswick, in whose yard sleeps 
the body of Southey, with this inscription on the 
stone : " Here lies the body of Robert Southey, 
LL. D., Poet Laureate, born August 12, 1774, died 
March 21, 1843; f° r forty years a resident of this 
parish. Also Edith his wife, born May 20, 1774, died 
November 16, 1837. I am the resurrection and the 
life, saith the Lord." On the opposite side of the 
stone is this: "Catharine Southey" (she was the 
poet's daughter) " Not to the grave, not to the grave, 
my soul descend to contemplate the form that once 
was dear — Southey." 

Those last words are very full of meaning. They 
ought to be deeply impressed upon the mind and 
memory of every Christian, who mourns departed 
friends. Go to the grave, if you will. Strew it with 
flowers, if thus your affection prompts you. But 
never for a moment forget that not to the grave, not 
to the grave, is your soul to descend to contemplate 
the form that once was dear. The dead is not there. 
The dust only sleeps beneath the turf ; the spirit, the 
real image of the Creator, has returned to God who 
gave it. 

When we returned to our hotel, we saw floating 
from a tall staff in front, a large American flag. Why 
Brother Jonathan's ensign was there, instead of John 
Bull's, I do not know. Probably "mine host" 
depends largely, for his business, on American 
tourists and deems it good policy to please them thus. 
We, certainly, were pleased, and saluted "Old Glory " 
with ringing cheers and swinging hats. You will 
never appreciate the beauty of the " Stars and 
Stripes " till you see them streaming in the air of a 



314 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

foreign clime. Ours is the most beautiful flag in the 
world. God help us to preserve it from everything 
that can rend or pollute ! 

After lunch we started, some in carriages and some 
on foot, for Grasmere, thirteen miles away. I was 
one of those who rode. The ride was exceedingly 
enjoyable, being behind sleek and spirited horses, 
through a romantic and charming country, up and 
down and round about. About half way to our 
destination, off in the field at the left, unseen by us in 
the carriages but visited by the pedestrians, we passed 
a stonehenge — the remains of a temple where the 
Druids used to offer human sacrifices, two thousand 
years ago. Farther on, for miles, we saw works, in 
process of construction, to convey water from Lake 
Thirlmere, one hundred miles, to the city of Man- 
chester. At a point where we crossed the line which 
divides the counties of Cumberland and Westmore- 
land, we saw a rude monument of an old Saxon king, 
slain there in battle at a time when England was 
divided into many kingdoms. 

We reached Grasmere at half -past three o'clock, 
and drove to a very elegant hotel called " The Prince 
of Wales." There we spent Sunday, August 31. 
Grasmere is one of the fairest spots I have ever 
seen. A beautiful little lake, of irregular shape, as 
blue as blue can be, nestles among lofty hills as green 
as green can be. The place must be seen to be 
appreciated. The hotel stands in the midst of a 
lovely garden, right on the lake. On the opposite 
side of the hotel from the lake, clusters the village. 

Sunday morning dawned clear and bright, but 
rather cool. At quarter to eleven o'clock, like a loyal 
Methodist, I attended service .in the little Wesleyan 



AYR AND THE ENGLISH LAKES. 315 

Chapel. The congregation was small. The minister 
and the leader of the choir were the same person. 
There were two sermons, one to the children, and a 
longer one to the adults. The message, which God's 
ambassador delivered, was plain and simple, and did 
good to my soul. After service I introduced myself 
to the preacher, and declined an invitation to preach 
in the evening. 

On the way back to the hotel I stopped at St. 
Oswald's Church. It is a queer stone building, with 
little pretension to architectural beauty, and very 
old. Like nearly all English churches, it is sur- 
rounded by a cemetery. Following a well-beaten 
path, I found the grave of the poet Wordsworth. A 
very cheap head-stone bears this inscription : 

"WILLIAM W T ORDSWORTH, 

1850. 

MARY WORDSWORTH, 

1859." 

In the church a mural tablet bears this inscription : 
"To the memory of William Wordsworth, a true 
philosopher and poet, who, by the special gift and 
calling of Almighty God, whether he discoursed on 
man or nature, failed not to lift up the heart to holy 
things, tired not of maintaining the cause of the 
poor and simple, and so in perilous times was raised 
up to be a chief minister not only of noblest poesy 
but of high and sacred truth, this monument is placed 
here by his friends and neighbors in testimony of 
respect, affection and gratitude, anno MDCCCLI." 

Wordsworth's connection with Grasmere makes it 
a very sacred place. Here he resided for more than 
half a century. He and his contemporaries and 
friends, Coleridge and Southey, were called " the 



316 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

Lake Poets." This name was first given them, in 
derision, by the English aristocracy, because they 
were republicans in politics, and because their poetry 
breathed a deep sympathy with the joys and sorrows 
of the common people. But what was an epithet of 
hate became a title of honor ; and Wordsworth lived 
to see himself the most popular poet in the English- 
speaking world. 

Near our hotel our attention was directed to a 
little cottage, called the " Dove and Bough," where 
Wordsworth and his wife began house-keeping. 
About-two miles away, on an opposite hill side, we 
could see, peeping through the trees, a larger and 
finer house where he subsequently resided. Monday 
morning, on our way to Wintermere, we passed near 
the house where he spent his last years, and where 
he died. We all descended from our seats on the 
carriage and walked up the hill to the place. It is 
an ordinary house ; but is so decked with ivy, and 
stands in the midst of such pleasant grounds, that it 
presents an exceedingly attractive appearance. We 
were not allowed to enter. We looked through the 
gate ; and I picked a little twig from a tree growing 
within. At another point on the road, we passed a 
large rock, overlooking a pleasant landscape, where 
the poet used to sit and study and write. 

Sunday afternoon I strolled about the hotel gar- 
den, or sat on a rustic bench right by the margin of 
the lake. It was a time, and place, for deep and 
delightful meditation. I thought of my earthly 
home, across the mountains and the seas, where I 
hoped to be, worshiping with my own dear people, 
two weeks from that day ; and I breathed a prayer 
that the days on old Ocean's restless bosom might be 



AYR AA'D THE ENGLISH LAKES. 317 

as calm and fair as that perfect Sabbath. Then I 
thought of my other home, across the ocean of time, 
where I hoped to be when all the storms of earth are 
passed ; and I asked myself : how can the great God 
make heaven more beautiful than this beautiful 
Grasmere is to-day ? 

Sitting there, I took out my pocket Testament and 
deliberately read the book of Mark, without rising, 
in sixty-three minutes. The fact, and place, and date 
I entered on the margin of the gospel. 

I told you that our hotel at Grasmere was called 
the "Prince of Wales House." It received its name, 
many years ago, when the Prince was its guest. In 
the garden stands a tall flag- staff, from which floated, 
all the time we were there, a white flag, bearing, in 
red, the coat-of-arms and motto of the Prince. The 
same was painted on the ground, at the base of the 
flag-staff, in foliage plants. What is the coat-of- 
arms of the Prince of Wales ? A crown, encircling 
three plumes. What is his motto ? The German 
words " Ich Dien" which mean " I Serve." 

There was an impressive lesson for me. I give it 
now to you. The motto of the mightiest of earthly 
princes, the heir apparent of the throne of the grand- 
est of earthly empires, is, "I serve." How well he 
lives up to his profession, I will not undertake to tell. 
But perfect fidelity to that sentiment would make 
him the most noble and worshipful of men. 

The motto of the Prince of Wales was the motto of 
the Prince of Heaven, the Eternal Son of God, who 
came down into our humanity, and died on the cross 
for us more than eighteen hundred years ago. He 
said of himself : " The Son of man came not to be 
ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life 



318 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

a ransom for many." He carried out that idea per- 
fectly, from' the beginning to the end of his earthly 
life. He never did anything merely for himself. He 
did and suffered everything for the good of others. 
He was the perfect man. Perfection in us consists 
in imitating, with divine help, Christ's life of service 
for humanity. 

The way to be Godlike, the way to be noble, the 
way to be manly and womanly, the way to rise above 
everything base and beastly, the only way to be 
happy, is to adopt, and live, the motto of the Prince 
of Wales, which is the motto of Christ ; " Ich Dien" 
"I Serve." If you would be great and happy in the 
highest degree, find, and keep, that place where, 
attracting the least attention to self and having the 
least thought of self, you can do the most for the 
happiness and elevation of humanity. Then you will 
become a Prince of God, and reign with him in glory 
for ever and ever. 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME. 319 



XVIII. 

CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME. 

" Return tmto the land of thy fathers, and to thy kindred." — 
Genesis xxxi., 3. 

These words were from God to the Patriarch Jacob, 
when he had sojourned twenty-one years in Padan- 
aram, commanding him to go back to Canaan. We 
had been traveling on the continent of Europe sixty- 
three days ; and now our original plan of travel, the 
voice of Providence and the love of home seemed to 
say to each one of us : " Return unto the land of thy 
fathers, and to thy kindred." 

It was Monday morning. We expected to sail for 
America on Wednesday. So we had about three days 
to give to Chester and Liverpool. We left Grasmere 
at forty minutes past seven o'clock. We rode in two 
carriages, which the Scotch call breaks ; and the 
English, char-a-bancs. The weather was pleasant, 
and the ride very enjoyable. After covering a 
distance of nine miles, we reached Wintermere, a 
small but beautiful village, the nearest railroad sta- 
tion to Grasmere. At 9:20 we were on the cars. 

An uneventful ride of ninety-five miles brought us to 
Chester, at about one o'clock. We found entertain- 
ment at the "Golden Lion Hotel." After lunch, we 
started out from Foregate Street, where the hotel is 
situated, to see the town. Chester is a strange old 
city. It is the capital of the County of Chester, and 



320 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

is situated on the right bank of the river Dee, twenty 
miles from the open sea. It was founded by the 
Romans, as early as the year sixty-five of our era. It is 
surrounded with a wall of varying height, nearly two 
miles in circumference. It is the only city in England 
that still possesses its walls perfect in their entire 
circuit. Chester has, however, outgrown its walls, so 
that there are 20,000 inhabitants within the old limits, 
and 30,000 without. The walls have been frequently 
repaired ; but the lower courses are believed to be as 
the Romans laid them, more than eighteen hundred 
years ago. 

The old walled city is nearly square. Near the 
middle of each of its four sides, and facing one of 
the four cardinal points of the compass, is a large 
gateway. They are called, respectively, North Gate, 
East Gate, Bridge Gate and Water Gate. From each 
gate, into the city, runs a street. The four streets 
meet, at a cross, in the center of the city, dividing 
the old town into four blocks. The four streets are 
named from the four gates — North Gate Street, East 
Gate Street, Bridge Gate Street and Water Gate 
Street. 

These four streets exhibit Chester's most character- 
istic feature, "the Rows." I presume you have all 
heard, of the Chester Rows ; but few of you have any 
definite idea of what they are. I will try to make 
you see them. Along the streets where the Rows 
are, all the buildings stand out flush with the curb- 
stones, or nearly so, leaving no room for sidewalks, 
where you would expect to find them. There are 
sidewalks, however. Where are they ? They take 
the place of the first or second (usually the second) 
story of the houses. The sidewalks are in the houses. 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME. . 321 

You walk on the house floor. Over your head is a 
ceiling, above which is the next story of the building. 
On one side of you, is a partition, with windows and 
doors. In there the people live, or carry on trade. 
There are the shops and stores. On the other side 
you look out upon the street, with nothing to obstruct 
your vision but a railing and the posts which hold up 
the building. 

Such are the famous " Chester Rows." Through 
them you can walk two miles, protected from sun, 
and rain, and dust, and mud. They are a fulfillment 
of Bellamy's prophecy, in the book called " Looking 
Backward," that, one hundred years from now, all 
city side-walks will be covered with roofs, so that 
umbrellas and parasols will no longer be needed. 
Chester is the nicest city in the world for shopping. 
If American ladies knew how convenient its Rows are, 
it seems to me they would all desire to remove to the 
banks of the Dee. 

Our hotel " the Golden Lion," was just outside the 
wall on Forgate Street, a few hundred feet east of 
East Gate. In going forth to view the town, the first 
thing which we purposed to do was to walk around 
the city on the wall. We went up on a flight of stone 
steps near East Gate. Then, starting with our faces 
toward the south, we walked completely around the 
the city on the top of the wall, on a stone path four 
and one-half feet wide, and about three feet below 
the parapet. In some places the wall is fifty feet 
above the ground outside ; and in other places, it is 
as low as ten or fifteen feet. The material of the wall 
is a beautiful red sand-stone. It was built as a 
defense ; it is carefully preserved as a relic of the 
past. Chester expects never to see war again. If 



322 THE GOSPEL OF FORI EG N TRA VEL. 

she should, her walls would be no protection what- 
ever against the big guns of the present age. We 
had not gone far on the wall, when we were obliged 
to clamber down into the street, and pass around a 
considerable stretch which had fallen down, and 
which a large gang of men were engaged in rebuild- 
ing. 

At the southeast corner, we came upon the river, 
which skirts the south wall, and had its company as 
far as the south-west corner. There we found the 
Castle, a huge mass of walls and towers, within whose 
court we saw the red-coated soldiers of Queen Vic- 
toria performing their evolutions. All along the 
western wall, we were in plain sight of the mountains 
of Wales. 

Across the north-western corner, piercing the wall 
in two places, runs a rail-road. The ramparts tremble 
every time the iron horse goes snorting and thunder- 
ing through. What would the brave men who piled 
up these stones do and say, if raised from the dead, 
they could see a flying locomotive with its train of cars? 
How strangely the dead past and the living present 
are linked together in weird, old Chester ! 

At the northwest angle is the Water Tower. It 
contains a museum of curiosities, and a queer old 
man who has charge of them. The tower stands at 
some distance from the wall, with a double wall con- 
necting it with the main fortification. At the point 
of junction is a smaller tower, beneath which we 
entered an old dungeon, in which political prisoners 
used to be confined. On the level ground outside the 
walls, between the rail-road and the Water Tower, 
are the remains of an old Roman bath-house, and 
many broken columns of a temple, or other building, 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME. 323 
erected by the conquerors of the world two thousand 

years ago. , 

At the walled city's northeast angle is Phcenix 
Tower. It is also called King Charles' Tower, 
because in the war between the people and the aris- 
tocrats of England, Charles I. stood here one day, 
and with his heart full of shame and despair, saw 
the 'army of Cromwell defeat the royal army, at 
Rossland moor, two miles away. That was two hun- 
dred and forty-six years ago. A quarter of a mile 
more of walking brought us to our starting point. 
One walk around Chester's walls did not satisfy me. 
I repeated it in the afternoon ; and again Tuesday 
morning, before breakfast. 

Descending from the wall we visited the Cathedral. 
It is a errand and massive old sandstone church, three 
hundred and seventy-five feet long, lifting an enor- 
mous square tower one hundred and twenty-seven feet 
toward the skv. In the choir is some of the very 
finest oak carving in the world. It represents years 
of labor by scores of the most gifted artists. In the 
lady's chapel— which means that part of the church 
especially dedicated to the Virgin Mary-a verger 
directed my attention to a tomb said to contain the 
remains of Werbergha, the patron saint of Chester, 
and then informed me that she is buried in two other 
places in England. That means that three places 
claim the honor of holding her ashes, and that no 
one but God and his angels know which is really her 
grave It makes no difference to her where she was 
buried. If you die in the faith of Jesus Christ, it 
will make no difference to you where your body 
shall find a resting place. At the end of the world, 
on the morning of the resurrection, when Christ 



324 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

comes the second time, he will find the ashes of St. 
Werbergha and of all his saints, no matter where the 
convulsions of nature or the malice or carelessness of 
men may have scattered them. 

On the wall of the north aisle we saw eight very 
fine mosaics— that is pictures made of little pieces of 
colored stone, inlaid so as to look, at a little distance, 
exactly like pictures painted on canvas. They are 
each about four feet square. They represent respec- 
tively : "Abraham offering Isaac," "The Burial of 
Sarah," " The finding of Moses," "Aaron and Hur 
holding up the hands of Moses," " David before Saul 
with the head of Goliath," "David mourning for 
Absalom," " The Angel feeding Elijah " and " Elijah 
meeting Ahab." The spaces between these pictures 
are filled with smaller mosaics of Abraham, Moses, 
David and Elijah. 

I said to myself, as I stood looking at these won- 
derful productions : Where and what, would the 
world's art be without religion ? Without religion, 
the world's art would not deserve the name 
of art. Nearly all the great paintings and statues of 
all nations have represented religious subjects. Art 
has drawn more themes, and more inspiration, from 
the Bible than from all other sources. The Bible is 
the best text-book the world has ever had, or ever 
will have, not only on religion, but also on history, 
and biography, and science, and philosophy, and 
poetry, and oratory, and art. Aside from its infinite 
value as a spiritual guide, the Bible is worth more to 
mankind, as an intellectual instructor, than all other 
books put together. 

In the nave of the Cathedral, at the front, are sus- 
pended two flags, which were carried at the battle of 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME. 325 

Bunker Hill, by a British regiment recruited at Ches- 
ter. If I had spoken what was in my heart, I should 
have said : Old flags, if our Yankee grandfathers' 
gun-powder had not given out, that June day, you 
would not be hanging here, but in some hall or 
museum over on my side of the Atlantic Ocean. 

There are many interesting old houses in Chester. 
Chief among them is the " God's Providence House/' 
as they call it. It is three stories high, and stands 
with its gable facing the street. On the ground floor 
is a harness-shop. The front of the second story is 
occupied by the side-walk, or " Row," with a furniture 
store opening upon it. The third story and gable- 
end are richly ornamented with stucco panels and 
wooden stiles. Under the third story window is an 
inscription, running across the entire front, which 
reads : "God's Providence is mine Inheritance." 

The story is that a fearful plague visited Chester 
in 1647 and 1648. It raged, with terrible fury, for 
ten months, sweeping off into the grave more than 
two thousand victims. It visited every house in the 
city but one. The one which it spared was this very 
house at which we are now looking. The man who 
lived here two hundred and forty-four years ago was 
a Christian, a man strong in faith and mighty in 
prayer. He believed that it was through the provi- 
dence of God, in answer to his prayers, that the 
plague did not enter his dwelling. So, when the 
peril had passed, he put up this inscription, as a per- 
petual testimony to the love and mercy and power 
of the Almighty : " God's Providence is mine Inher- 
itance." Can you say : " God's providence is mine 
inheritance " ? Do you believe in the providence of 
God, whereby he watches over his children and makes 



826 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

all things contribute to their highest welfare ? Do 
you believe that " all things work together for good 
to them that love God ? " I do ; and, if I did not, 
it seems to me I should wish I had never been born. 
This doctrine is clearly taught in the Bible, and in 
the experiences of myriads of Christians. John 
Fletcher, one of the fathers of Methodism and one 
of the saintliest preachers and mightiest theologians 
that ever lived, when a young man, was in the city of 
Lisbon, about to sail for Brazil, on a voyage of ambi- 
tion and adventure. On the very morning when he 
expected to depart, the maid who waited on him at 
breakfast spilled a considerable quantity of hot 
water upon him, and scalded him so badly that he 
had to go to bed in the surgeon's care. Before he 
recovered, the ship sailed, leaving him behind, and 
was never heard from again. What was the spilling 
of that water, which saved Fletcher's life ? Was it 
a lucky accident? Taken with the loss of the 
ship, in which it prevented him from sailing, was it 
a wonderful coincidence ? No. It was a providence. 
God, foreseeing the wreck of the ship, brought about 
the spilling of the water on purpose to save the life 
of a man, for whom he had planned a useful and 
honorable future. 

When the Asiatic cholera was raging in the city of 
New York, many years ago, and all who could were 
fleeing from the pest-ridden place, a Christian man 
sat in his house, after his wife and children had 
retired for the night, perplexed with anxious thoughts. 
Should he stay where he was, and where his business 
interests and his duties were, or should he take his 
loved ones and fly to some sheltered spot far in the 
north or west ? He desired to know, and to do, the 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME. 327 

will of God. In a spirit of prayer and trust and 
obedience, he opened his Bible at random and his 
eyes fell on these words : " He that dwelleth in the 
secret place of the Most High shall abide under the 
shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, he 
is my refuge and my fortress, my God ; in him will I 
trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of 
the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He 
shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his 
wings shall thou trust ; his truth shall be thy shield 
and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror 
by night ; nor for the arrow that flieth by day ; nor 
for the pestilence that walketh in darkness ; nor for 
the destruction that wasteth at noon-day. A thou- 
sand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy 
right hand ; but it shall not come nigh thee. Only 
with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward 
of the wicked. Because thou hast made the Lord, 
which is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habi- 
tation, there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any 
plague come nigh thy dwelling." 

His resolve was taken. He knew that that was a 
message from God to him. He closed the book. 
He went to bed and slept till morning, without a fear 
or care. He and his household remained in the city, 
and not one of them was harmed. 

Was it a coincidence that he read the ninety-first 
Psalm ? Was it an accident that the cholera passed 
him by, while it entered almost every other home ? 
Let atheists answer: k 'Y.es." Let all who believe 
that there is a God say : " No ! It was an over- 
ruling providence that guided that man's eyes to that 
particular psalm, and impressed him to remain in the 
city, and shielded him and his loved ones there." 



328 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

Such thoughts came to me, as I stood in the street, 
in Chester, in front of that old house, and read the 
inscription : " God's providence is mine inheritance." 

All this sight-seeing took place on Monday. Tues- 
day morning I visited St. John's Church. A portion 
fell long years ago. The rest has been repaired and 
preserved. A part of the nave, preserved in almost 
its original perfection, was erected in the year 1070. 
In the ruined chapter house, formerly occupied as a 
dwelling, I was shown the room in which De Quincey 
wrote "The confessions of an English Opium-Eater." 

The Grosvenor Museum was the next attraction. 
It contains a large and exceedingly interesting- 
collection of Roman remains, dug up in Chester. 
They are such articles as sepulchral tablets, altars, 
fragments of statues and columns, sections of exquisite 
mosaic floors, pottery and coins. They are the relics 
of a civilization which flourished in England more 
than two thousand years ago. 

One very curious thing which I saw in this museum 
was a scold's-bridle, such as was used in England 
centuries ago. It consists of an iron band, which was 
made to pass around the face and fasten behind. In 
front, projecting inward so as to hold the lips apart 
and nearly fill the mouth, is a large piece of iron 
welded to the band. Two other bands pass over the 
head to hold the instrument in its place. 

The wearing of such a thing as that would seem a 
very severe punishment. But is it any worse thar# 
the scold deserves ? How much of ruin and misery 
a scolding tongue can cause, only the Infinite Mind 
can know. Much of the drunkenness and debauchery 
which curse society have their source in the domestic 
scold, who turns home into hell, and drives husband 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME, 329 

and sons, for relief, into the cooler and more comfort- 
able hell of the saloon. If all the scolds in America 
were condemned to wear bridles, millions of dollars 
would have to be invested forthwith in buildings and 
machinery for their manufacture. 

But if I were the Czar of America, I would let the 
scolds go, till I had put a bridle on the mouth of 
every slanderer and tattler. They are as much 
worse than the scold, as the cyclone, which demolishes 
your house, is worse than the March gale, which merely 
rattles your windows. The slanderer and his right 
hand supporter, the tattler, blast and destroy every- 
thing, in this life, which is most precious and beauti- 
ful, and inflict wounds which time can never heal. 
Every man who holds any public position must 
expect to have lies invented and circulated about 
him. All he can do is to bear the wrong in silence, 
leaving his vindication to time and to God ; for, for 
every lie which he undertakes to hunt to its hole and 
destroy, ten other lies will leap out of the slanderer's 
poisoned throat and start on their career of havoc 
and destruction. Therefore, if I could, I would stop 
every lie, before it starts, by putting a Chester bridle 
on the mouth of every slanderer and tattler, of both 
sexes. 

About six miles from Chester are two princely 
residences, with surrounding grounds, which we 
intended to visit. Two things kept us from making 
jthe excursion — the weather was too foul for a pleasure 
ride ; and the thought of starting for sweet home the 
next day almost took away our desire for further 
sight-seeing. The places to which I refer are Eaton 
Hall, the palace of the Duke of Westminster and 
Hawarden, the residence of Gladstone. 



330 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA FEE 

The Duke of Westminster is, with perhaps one 
exception, the richest man in England. His Eaton 
Hall estate comprises an expanse of lawns and 
gardens and fields and forests, measuring twelve miles 
long and eight miles wide. He also owns a large 
part of the city of London. His entire income is said 
to be seven dollars ancf a half a minute, or ten thou- 
sand and eight hundred dollars a day. 

The richest individual in the world is an American. 
He lives in New York. His name is Jason Gould. 
He is worth two hundred and fifty million dollars. 
He made every cent of that vast fortune himself. 
Can you take in the meaning of those figures — two 
hundred and fifty million dollars? Why, if Adam 
had lived till the present time, and had saved forty 
thousand dollars every year, he would not be as rich 
to-day as is Mr. Gould. But let me assure you that 
the poorest pauper, who has the love of God in his 
heart, and the assurance that his name is written in 
heaven, is richer than all the money-kings of earth 
combined, provided they know not Christ. Jay 
Gould is worth two hundred and fifty millions to-day. 
But how much would he be worth, if he should cross 
the river of death to-morrow ? He cannot carry his 
gold with him into eternity ; and, if he could, it might 
melt in his hands. 

Tuesday afternoon we left Chester, by rail, and 
reached Liverpool, twenty-one miles distant, at fifteen 
minutes past five o'clock. We went to the Stork 
Hotel and spent the night. Liverpool is the third 
largest city in Great Britain. It has a population of 
about six hundred thousand. It is situated on the 
right bank of the Mersey River, which flows almost 
directly north, and empties into the Irish Sea. As a. 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HUME. 331 

commercial city Liverpool stands second in the 
world, London being first. Although Liverpool is an 
old town, its greatness is of recent origin. Nearly 
one-half of all the products exported from England 
are shipped from this port. The greater portion of 
the emigrants coming to America sail from here. 
Ten transatlantic lines of steamers, employing the 
largest and finest vessels, are established in this vast 
emporium. All this business began with a little 
American steamer, the first which ever crossed the 
ocean, named the Savannah. It sailed from Savannah, 
Georgia, May 6, 1819, and had a passage of twenty- 
six days. It had been declared, by wise men, that 
no ship could ever cross the Atlantic by steam, 
because it would be impossible to carry a sufficient 
supply of coal to last through the voyage. The 
Savannah carried over a copy of the book containing 
the demonstration of that proposition. 

Liverpool has many great public works. One of 
the most wonderful of these is a tunnel under the 
river, connecting the city with the suburb Brinken- 
head. The tunnel is two miles and a half long, is 
wide enough for a double line of railway track and 
cost more than four million dollars. Liverpool has 
the finest docks in the world, excepting only those of 
London. Altogether they cost one hundred and 
twenty-five million dollars. The largest of them, 
Alexandra Dock, is the largest in the world. Its 
size is so great that twenty-one vessels of the greatest 
length and tonnage can, at the same time, discharge 
or load their cargo at its quay. The docks extend 
up and down the river a distance of seven miles, and 
are always filled with shipping. Along the docks 
are rows of warehouses, in which the produce of half 
the world is stored. 



332 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TRA VEL. 

We spent about eight hours, viewing the interest- 
ing sights of Liverpool. It is well-built, and is as 
clean as a purely commercial city could be expected 
to be. It looks more like an American than an 
English town. The first building which we visited 
was St. George's Hall. Its foundation stone was 
laid June 28, 1838, the coronation day of Queen 
Victoria. It is used for legislative and judicial pur- 
poses and for public entertainments. All political 
gatherings are rigidly ruled out. The structure is 
one of which the city may well feel proud, and holds 
a high rank among the buildings of modern times. 
Entering, you ascend a flight of stone steps, reaching 
almost the entire length of its east front, and pass 
under a lofty portico, supported by sixteen Corinthian 
columns, each sixty feet high. The center of the 
building is occupied by the great hall, one hundred 
and sixty-nine feet long and eighty-five feet wide, 
with galleries seventy-four feet high, all overarched 
with a solid vault of masonry. It will comfortably 
seat about six thousand persons. It is finished, with 
great richness, in polished granite columns, marble 
balustrades and pavements, and polished brass doors 
with elegant foliated tracery. A corridor runs 
around the hall, communicating with the various 
accessory rooms. 

In front of St. George's Hall stand equestrian 
statues of the Queen and her husband, Prince Albert. 
The latter is exceedingly pleasing to behold. But 
the Queen is disfigured by an insignificant-looking hat 
which she wears on her head. 

Just north of St. George's Hall we visited the Free 
Public Library and Museum, and the Walker Art 
Gallery. In the museum I saw the largest and finest. 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME. 333 

collection of stuffed birds that I ever saw. It is per- 
fectly immense. It must contain scores of thousands 
of specimens, from the gigantic condor of the Andes, 
down to the tiniest humming bird. 

Another exhibit, which I studied with great inter- 
est, was a collection of glass imitations of all the 
largest diamonds in the world. Though of small 
intrinsic value, they accurately represent the size, 
shape and color of the originals. The largest stood 
for the Mattan Diamond, the largest and most valu- 
able in the world. It is shaped like a pear, some- 
what elongated from stem to blow. A line, drawn 
through it between those points, would measure 
about two inches and a half. It was discovered in 
Borneo in 1776, and became the property of a prince, 
or Rajah, of that country. Two men- of- war, with 
stores and amunition complete, and quarter of a 
million dollars in money, were offered, by the Dutch 
Government, for the gem and refused by the Rajah, 
who replied that the fortunes of his family depended 
upon its possession. That little piece of transparent 
carbon, which you could hide in one hand, is 
estimated to be worth three million and a half of 
dollars. 

Looking into that casket of diamonds, I recalled 
the words of our Lord : " The kingdom of heaven is 
like unto a merchant man seeking goodly pearls ; who, 
when he had found one pearl of great price, went and 
sold all that he had, and bought it." The goodliest 
pearl in the world is the diamond. Therefore, we 
may say that the pearl, for which the merchant gave 
all he had, was a diamond. The diamond in the 
parable represents experimental religion. If you have 
embraced the religion of Jesus Christ, as a definite and 



334 THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA FEE 

personal experience, you have a diamond which is 
worth infinitely more than all the gems of earth ; and, 
if the Devil asks you to sell it for the baubles of this 
world, you ought to say to him as the Rajah of Mat- 
tan said of his diamond : " My fortunes for time and 
eternity depend upon my possession of this treasure. 
I will not sell it." 

At four o'clock, Tuesday afternoon, we boarded 
a little steamboat, and were carried out into the river 
to the great Inman steamer City of New York, which 
was lying at anchor, waiting for the tide to rise, that 
she might get over the bar into the ocean. Going on 
board that great floating palace, we found our state- 
room ; and got our baggage in place ; and hunted up 
our deck chairs and sea-rugs, which had been 
expressed from Antwerp, where we had left them 
sixty-six days before ; and put things to rights ; and 
had dinner — a most sumptuous banquet ; and sat on 
deck till dark, watching the swarming ships, and 
eying our great rival, the Teutonic, of the White Star 
Line ; and went to bed. 

At eleven o'clock, the tide having risen, the noble 
ship weighed anchor and put out to sea. The next 
morning we were out of sight of land. The sea was 
smooth, the sky was bright, and everybody was gay 
and happy. 

At about noon we entered the harbor of Queens- 
town, on the southern coast of the far-famed Emerald 
Isle. That was my first glimpse of Ireland, and I had 
a great desire to go on shore. But that was impos- 
sible. Our ship did not make her dock but anchored 
in the offing till the mails, which left Liverpool after 
she did, and came a shorter way partly by land and 
partly by water, were brought out in a tug. Then 
we steamed out into the ocean, leaving the Teutonic 



CHESTER, LIVERPOOL AND HOME. 335 

at anchor where we saw her when we entered Queens- 
town harbor. 

Our voyage of three thousand and twenty-seven 
miles was now fairly begun. It would be superfluous 
to describe our return voyage, as it would be mainly 
a repetition of the outward voyage, which was 
described with considerable minuteness. We had good 
weather all the time, with the exception of the third 
day when the sea was decidedly rough, and most of 
the passengers paid a heavy tribute to old Neptune. 
I described the City of New York in connection with 
a description of the Red Star Ship Westernland, on 
which we made the outward passage. 

Wednesday morning, September 10, I came on deck 
in time to witness the birth of as fine a day as I ever 
saw. One of the officers told me that the Teutonic, 
which had not till then been in sight since we left 
her at Queenstown, had passed us in the night. At 
the breakfast table my opposite (not a member of our 
party) was very glum and cross. He had wagered 
money on the speed of our ship, and had lost. When 
I went on deck, I could dimly see the shores of Long- 
Island. O how happy I was to see the land — the 
land of my home and my birth ! It seemed to me 
that that was the most beautiful morning I had ever 
seen. It was indeed glorious. 

As the day advanced and the shores grew nearer, 
the forward deck was crowded with passengers. They 
were the gayest company I ever saw. Everybody 
was congratulating everybody else that home was so 
near. " How beautiful ! how beautiful ! " was on 
every tongue, as we saw the coasts of New York and 
New Jersey almost embracing each other, at Sandy 
Hook, amid a crowd of steamers and white-winged 
sailing vessels. Soon we were over the bar, where the 



33G THE GOSPEL OF FOREIGN TEA VEL. 

water is twenty-one feet deep at low tide, and we 
were in the finest harbor on the globe. It was pleas- 
ant to hear the foreigners on board praise our harbor 
and speak contemptuously of the little mud-holes, 
called harbors, of European countries. 

I must not take time to describe our sail up the 
harbor, past the islands and forts and through the 
fleets of ships coming and going. In due time our 
monster vessel, with the help of a little tug, swung 
into her slip crowded with people waving handker- 
chiefs and shouting recognition to their friends on 
our decks, and we were at home. 

Like that, only more glorious, will be the faithful 
Christian's entrance into the harbor of Heaven. We 
have been sailing on the ocean of time for many 
weary years. If we are on board the " Old Ship Zion," 
Heaven cannot be far away. Some bright morning 
you will come on deck — the rolling deck of disease 
or sudden accident, or old age — and catch a glimpse 
of the evergreen shore of immortality. The sight 
will fill your soul with joy unspeakable and full of 
glory. Soon, without a pang of regret but with 
shouts of ecstasy, you will smoothly sail over the bar 
of death into the harbor of eternal life. Then, 
between banks of glittering emerald and among 
islands of ruby and amethyst, you will move up to the 
golden wharf crowded with angels and saints waving 
and shouting you "Welcome ! " In that glittering 
throng you will recognize many of the friends of 
earth, who have long been awaiting your coming. 
Brightest of all will beam your Saviour's face ; and, 
as you step on the eternal shore, he will clasp you in 
his arms of almighty love and say : " Home at 
last ! " 

THE END. 



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